Dad didn’t seem all that bad, but Mom had gained a ton of weight. In that red Christmas dress, she looked like a strawberry. One that’d been picked too long ago.
But Dad, he seemed chipper and excited by all the people – the children, Bethany, Daniel, and Marshall. He kept chasing the kids around the house and making silly jokes that had Matthew, Michael, and Martin in stitches.
He’d never done that before. Every time Dad made a joke about the kids looking like bowling pins or Marshall’s ears reminding him of Dumbo, Mom scowled, “Oh, Alan, stop that now!”
“Oh, Strawberry, I’m just kidding. Look kids, Grandma is a big strawberry in that dress!” And off they would go, running around the house.
“If that man gets any worse,” Mom said, “I’m going to jump out of my skin. That man has always been impossible.”
“Millie,” Dad said for the tenth time, “where’s the coffee maker? And the telephone is broken. I can’t dial out.”
“Look, Alan, I’ll make coffee for you. And who are you calling?”
“My mother, of course. It’s Christmas Eve. I always call her.”
Marshall looked over at Daniel, who nodded his head.
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