A Daddy Dearest story

Last night, the "sleeping" part of the night, was pretty typical. A little after 10 the Man and I started to do the tooth-brushing, clothes removing stuff in preparation for the bed, and I let out the cats (oh I LOVE YOU, first floor!).
We went to bed and discussed Nineteenth Century literature for awhile (isn't that what the kids are calling it these days? No? Well, anyway) and then the Man immediately feel into a deep deep slumber, as is his way. I lay awake wondering about life and the future and mysteries unsolvable. For a half hour or so.
I woke up a few times because of the stupid freaking jack-hammer of an air conditioner, and there was some tossing and turning. At 4:20 (hey hey!) I woke up to get the cats inside and feed them, because I SENSED that they were right at the door (they totally were!) and would want to come in (they totally did!). The I went to sleep and had a weird memory dream where I wasn't sure WHAT was going on until I woke up and I was saying "the sun will come out... WTF?"

Let me explain.

When I was young, like, pre-5 years old, so not even living on the farm in NJ, but living in Piscataway, NJ, there was a thing that used to happen when family came to visit. We'd see the family (my Dad's cousins and aunt and brother - all from Long Island) a few times a year on holidays. They would come over and we'd eat and celebrate and if my brother and I were lucky someone would want to play board games with us (I believe our preference was for a game called Mr. Wiggly). Anywho, I liked to sing and dance for my relatives, and they all seemed to enjoy it (probably in that "I've just had a whole mess of strong cocktails so isn't this cute" kind of way, but still). My song was always "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow" from Annie. Here's where it gets all sad: Whenever I got to the part where I'd sing the word "tomorrow", my Dad would always ALWAYS yell out "next Tuesday". And I'd beg him to STOP RUINING IT but he wouldn't. And he'd laugh. And I'd cry. And this happened every single time and you'd think I'd learn but I never ever did.

Because folks, I was a stupid kid.
And that's what I was thinking/dreaming about this morning at 5am-ish. While the cats were lounging to my left and the Man was gently snoring to my right.

Funny sidenote: My Mom has said on many, many occasions that she was sure that one of us (my brother or me) would write a Mommy Dearest-type of book because (she said sarcastically) our lives were so terrible and our mother tortured us so. And yet here I am, writing about torture that was perpetrated entirely by my Dad. Although, Mom, you didn't have to sit back and let Dad wreck my big number every time. Bad parenting!