I had taken my dad to the mall to buy new shoes — no small task since he’s 92 and moves slower these days. Afterward, we stopped at the food court for a quick meal. While we ate, I noticed Dad staring at a teenager nearby whose hair was spiked in every imaginable color: green, blue, orange, red. Dad kept looking over, and each time the teenager caught him staring, he grew more irritated.
Finally, the teen snapped.
“What’s the matter, old man? Never done anything wild in your life?”
I froze. I knew my father — quiet, sharp as ever, and always ready with a comeback that could sharpen a dull knife. I swallowed my food before he even opened his mouth.
Without flinching, Dad said calmly:
“Son, I once got drunk and married a woman with hair exactly like that. And judging by your face, you might be my kid.”
The teenager went silent. The entire food court erupted into laughter.
And my dad?
He just kept eating his sandwich like nothing happened.
