what a trip.

A year ago we had the pleasure of housing Nana and Papa for bit. They are so great and the good news? Yes, they’re back! Our short-term live-ins are paying us a little visit—Papa with his gumption and Nana with her grace.

Right off the bat dad asks if there’s an IKEA in my local suburb (cutie!) and if they carry entertainment centers. No dad, no IKEA within my city limits; but yes there is one down by the MOA and they do have entertainment centers. He says “could we find a time to run down there while we’re staying? It will be quick—we can be in and out.”

Like you, I know better than to think this will be just a short-term mission trip, there is no such thing when it comes to IKEA with all it entails. So I do some key short-list planning to make this a success—a) find care for Mr. C.

That about covers it—we head out the next morning.

After a drive-through Starbucks run I see Papa is already doing his thing with the customer service personal. See Papa is funny, and knows it. The service providers don’t always know it, but for the most part they do. It might look like him saying “so any fresh coffee today?”

“Your in luck, we sure do!”

Then he might push it, “how much for a half cup?” I tell him under my breath, “I will continue to see these people in my day-to-day life dad.” Chuckling he settles on a half-caf mocha and then behaves himself; even treating me on behalf of this big-trip I am chaperoning him on.

Barista Jane asks where the toddler is today. I say, “no toddler today, just Papa.” She gives me a wink as she hands me my piping-hot 2 pump mocha that I will be slowly sipping and savoring.

Papa asks for a straw for his piping-hot mocha and sucks it right down.

Heading south on the freeway Papa is checking his watch; as surely we must have passed it by now. Nana from the back ensures him, “Emily knows the way…” I tell him it’s almost all the way down to the airport. “Wow, I’ll give you 20 dollars for gas em,” followed by, “and we won’t be long—just in and out.”

I remind him—”this is a pretty big store, there is lots to look at dad. And you might want to consider a wheelchair so your more comfortable.”

He says he has no problem using one if he feels the need.

The cutie.

As we stroll along I hear Papa say “mush, mush” then a giggle. I giggle right along.

Bumping along occasionally too close to others, another good line he pipes up with, “handicapped driver, out of the way!” I roll my eyes appropriately.

I give him the tour of entertainment centers, responding to his left, right, stop, go, back, forward commands.

We track down a worker and he gets some questions answered about different furniture pieces.

Then he starts in. “Any discount for VA vets? Or, how about the handicapped?”

She is all-too-seriously answering these questions stating she is far from the price-point side of the business.

He gets up out of the wheelchair saying, “I’m faking it anyways.”

Oh boy. I smirk at this dear customer service worker.

I see him looking at his watch wondering how much longer this will take. I push him to the closest exit for a smoke break and Nana and I head off with the aisle and bin numbers to find the pieces.

We did it.

He went with the BESTA entertainment center, good choice dad.

Coming home a bit tired I feel satisfied to the fullest. He got what he needs and more than that; I just love spending time with my dad. He is something…there is no one else like him. And I see where I get some of that tendency toward public-displays of humor from—that nature to push things a bit too far. Now when I see that in me, I can see a reflection of my dad.

Oh, do I love him.

He is, he is a trip. And after a good trip there is nothing like a good nap, just what I did.

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