My dad and I just had a lovely meal with his parents...third night in a row that the post-dinner hour is one of exquisite torture...and my grandma shared a story about mini-Dana that I will now relay.
I was maybe 2 or 3, and my grandma was running errands with me while my siblings were at school. I was in my car-seat in the backseat, and we're rolling along and I guess the car we were in started to stall every so often. Apparently, I saw that she was frustrated, so I kept repeating "Just fut it, Gamma! Just FUT it!"-- gee, I can't imagine what word I was trying to pronounce.
I love that story, mostly because I can't help thinking about the color my mom's face must've turned when my grandmother told her that her little punkin'buns was trying to drop F-bombs. I also wish that I'd been there when Grandma told my great-aunt Mir what had happened because it must've been awesome. "Dougie's little girl was saying that, eh?!" (The Monfortons are Canadian, so yes, they say "Eh", and yes, they like hockey. No, they don't eat raccoon, and no, they're not afraid of the dark.)
And now I will go back to the fetal position. Let's put it this way: if I was carbo-loading for the Ironman tomorrow, I'd still have eaten too much.
Move over Nike, here comes Dana!
ReplyDeleteJust Fut It!! Will you autograph my gym shoes, please??????
I am no longer going to reply to your blog posts, because someone manages to already do that!
ReplyDeleteThe reference to Canadians not being afraid of the dark ... is that a common notion? Or is that a reference to that episode of How I Met Your Mother?
ReplyDelete