You’d think when you’re 66 years old and your daughter is 40, you can finally leave home for a few weeks to go on vacation and ask her to water the plants and trust she won’t throw a party and raid your beer in your absence.
You’d think that.
But you’d be wrong.
You know what’s fun to do when you’re 40 and your parents leave town? I mean, other than steal their convertible and act confused about why the mileage is always suddenly higher than when they left, which you’ve been doing for years.
What’s fun is throwing a party at their house because they were foolhardy and unwise and gave you their house keys, car keys and the garage code.
And even better than throwing an unauthorized party?
Is sending them pictures like this…
…of a police car in their driveway.
…of beer bottles and some random couple on their bed.
And decorating their house for their return like this…
… just, you know, to let them know you thought about them while they were away.
Because you’re very, very thoughtful.
And you want them to know you missed them.
And that they should never, ever, EVER leave town again.
Or think you’re responsible enough to water the plants.
P.S. Some of those pictures might be the teeniest, tiniest bit staged and may not reflect the actual nature of the party.
P.P.S. I might have flagged that cop down while he was driving by. And I might’ve asked if he’d do me a favor. And I might’ve mentioned it wasn’t actually law-enforcement related. And he might’ve looked at me like I was propositioning him before skeptically asking how he might help me. And I might’ve said, “I’m 40 and my parents are on vacation and I’m throwing a party without their knowledge.” And he might’ve started laughing before he offered to pull into the driveway and turn on the lights. And I might’ve told him he’s the BEST police officer in the WHOLE WORLD. You know, MAYBE.
P.P.P.S. I also might’ve just met those people who are pictured on my parents’ bed. And they might’ve offered to pose for it after seeing the cop in the driveway because they heard I was sending sketchy pics to my sweet, retired parents. And now I might be working on a campaign to force those bed people to be my friends forever and ever and ever.
P.P.P.P.S. My parents gave me their house keys, car keys and garage keys, “just in case something happened,” but they didn’t give me their bank codes and passwords. Weird, right?
P.P.P.P.P.S. My parents used to be missionaries, and they love Jesus very much. The Bible tells us I am their reward. “Children are a gift from the LORD; they are a reward from him.” Psalm 127:3
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Some people think the Bible can be interpreted different ways. Those people are probably wrong.