Tolerance || Daddy's Home

Meeting The Big Man In Red

Besides the melt down pop-pop had last night about the tree, he mentioned not sleeping with la-la. To dad, this was seen as him being considerate given that pop-pop snores as loud as a chainsaw.

I, too, thought it was nice until I saw Dusty and Mr. Mayron saw glances. Even Sara looked appalled. I'm guessing this wasn't exactly a good thing but I mean nothing can possibly be wrong between them. They're so great together.

Oh, and, uh, last night Adrianna decided to be a little brat again turning up the temperature. Thankfully, this time they didn't loudly discussed it but it seemed it was only dad and Dusty speaking.

So, so far, not counting being woken up by the brat, the morning was going great.

Even more now that it was only three days until Christmas.

Today's activity, chosen by dad and Sara, was bowling. Sadly, Tommy wasn't coming along today but at least I got time to spend with dad. Bowling was kinda our thing when I was younger. We haven't really played in a while and this is a great bonding moment.

   "Sweetie, your turn." Dad called after going his turn.

I took the orange ball and with a quick swing of my arm, the ball came crashing down onto the pins knocking them all over. Dad held his hands up high-fiving me. Dusty smiled giving me pat on the back with a 'good job' comment. Man, I wish when he gave me starbursts to 'win' me over than this. It's great, the support, but he tries too hard sometimes.

   "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What's with the kiddie stuff?" Mr. Mayron exclaimed looking down at his son.

   "What? The rails?"

   "Yeah."

   "It's how the kids learn how to bowl, dad." Dusty explained seemingly irritated by his comment.

   "You learn by fearing the gutter. Like in life, Dusty."

He did make a point. Dad never put the rials up for me. Then again, he didn't know the bowling place had rails to begin with.

   "Now, Kurt. The rails help a young bowler build a positive self-image."

Self-image my ass. I didn't have them and I think I turned out pretty okay.

Mr. Mayron didn't seem to understand this whole 'kiddie' stuff and encouraged Dylan to bowl with it. And as the game carried on and with each time Dylan played, his ball went into the gutter. 

I don't think his self-image could be any worse. Especially after letting himself flop onto the ground weeping over it.

   "I quit, I quit!"

Mr. Mayron knelt beside him, comforting the boy. To my surprise he was successful. Dylan had gotten up with a determinate look. He took his ball and gave it a swing. Slowly, the ball roll over to the pins. It neared the edge, inching towards the gutter.

And then, the ball dropped on the opposite side.

Dylan had scored one point.

He shouted in joy being lifted by Mr. Mayron. Dad and Dusty hugged him as he was being carried around. Each taking turned to hug the boy.

———

Finally, it came down to what we were all waiting for, Santa Claus. That's right. Dusty, dad, Griffy, and I waited in the long line to see the man of the year.

Dylan and Mr. Mayron were out celebrating his big accomplishment from the bowling rink. As for Megan, she was apparently too 'big' for Santa. Coincidence that's all of a sudden big when Adrianna claimed it was childish, isn't it?

   "Hey, where were you guys?" Dusty asked. "We're almost at the front of the line here."

Mr. Mayron and Dylan were at Starbucks getting free drinks from the barista that fell for the man's charm. I honestly just don't see it. I mean, he looks great for his age but... I don't know.

   "Em, would you like a photo with Santa too?"

   "Dad, I'm too old for that."

   "What? No, no, you're not too old for Santa."

   "Emilia isn't sitting on some—" Dusty cut himself off as he glancing down at Dylan before continuing his sentence. "On Santa's lap."

I roll my eyes leaning towards dad to whisper, "I wrote him a letter don't worry."

   "Welcome to the North Pole!" Santa greeted. Dad smiled warmly placing Griffy onto the man's lap. But it seems Griffy wasn't much of a Santa fan.

Just moments after, the rest came just in time to get a photo with him.

   "What about you, big brother?" Santa said looking at Dylan. "I'm sure you've been good. What's on your list?"

Dylan looked over to Mr. Mayron. "I kind of want a 20-gauge shotgun, so I can go turkey hunting with my El Padre!"

Oh no. The boy's been brainwashed. He's a sweet child that cries over Sara killing ants. He does not want that.

   "What the heck? Where'd he come up with that?"

   "Did he just ask for a firearm?" Pop-pop turned to Sara with concern laced in his voice.

   "Kurt, we've already been through this. Dusty and I..."

   "Yeah, it is final. That's it. It'd not happening."

Sara stepped up doing that mom look she always does when bothered. "Really? I don't remember being part of that discussion."

She glanced at Karen who smirked. "Or am I just some little obedient wife who does whatever the men folk say?"

She had a point but then again it's a gun we're talking about. We do not need that the hand side a child. 

And everyone seemed to have thought the same. Pop-pop brought Dylan to his side explaining what he would really be doing. And that's all he needed, to have this be explained. Dylan didn't want to do this.

   "I'll do it! I'll kill a turkey!" Megan exclaimed jumping right onto Santa's lap. "I'll have one shotgun, please, Santa. And gobs and gobs of bullets."

   "No, no, no, cupcake. No, I'm sorry." Mr. Mayron walked towards them hunching over to her height. "No, the men do the hunting. You ladies cook what we kill."

I scoffed. "Excuse me?" Sara and I said in-sync. Mr. Mayron turned around looking at us.

   "Yeah, excuse you?"