You’re Not My Father!

         “It’s time to get the dishes done, Kelli. Your mom said she didn’t want to walk into ‘That Mess’ again and she seemed pretty strong about it.”
         “Whatever.”
         “That’s a rather cavalier attitude.”
         “What? What’re you talking about?”
         “It’s an old expression that means you’re not taking the situation seriously. In your current teen parlance you’re blowing it off.”
         “I don’t have to. You can’t tell me what to do.”
         “I’m not, your mother is and I think you’ll get an argument from her about that stance.”
         “No, I won’t, you’re not my father!”
         “I know I’m not your father, I’m hoping to become your ‘Dad.’ I think we’ve already had the conversation about telling you what to do.”
         “When? I don’t remember that.”
         “It was the month after the wedding and I’d asked you to put your dishes in the dishwasher, you said no, that I couldn’t tell you what to do. Your mother was firm about the fact I can. It’s our house and your mother and I make the rules. And we do think about you and your sisters.”
         “I don’t remember that!”
         “I wouldn’t expect you to at this point.”
         “What’s that mean?”
         “That I don’t think you remember and wouldn’t admit it if you did.”
         “You think I’m a liar!”
         “No, Kelli, I don’t, I understand teen agers.”
         “Whatta you know!”
         “Youre forgetting, I have 3 daughters in their twenties, I’ve been through it.”
         “Oh, yeah, I remember.”
         “Do the dishes?”
         “Okay. But it’s not because you told me to! Mom did.”
         “I understand, your mother told you to.”
         “Yeah. And you’re still not my dad.”
         “How about you and I go get a couple shakes and bring your mother her favorite sundae?”
         “Could we?”
         “Yep.”
         “Thank you... you’re still not my dad.”
         “I know.”