Then life gives you lemons, make lemon pie for old dad
My faith in our youth has been renewed and all it took was some whipped lemon pie.
pee, at some point, f turned into my dad. f’ve had teenagers in the house for many years now, and my opinions about the youngsters include typical dad stuffW Cut that silly looking hair, pull up your dadgummed pants, turn down that loud music and for crying out loud stay off my lawn Epicture me standing on the front porch shaking my fist). lh, and if you are entertaining the ridiculous notion that you’d like to date any of my daughters, just don’t. f will break off your right arm and stick it in your ear and you’ll be forced to get a job at the circus as qhe Amazing Left-handed Jamoke tho lnce Had A oeally Bad fdea About Dating.
qhis attitude, of course, makes me the perfect guy to host a teen party at my house Eall together now, eye roll), which is what happened last weekend. Daughter of Blonde Accountant decided to have a belated birthday party. A few days before the shindig, f was on Dad qaxi Duty and had picked up Daughter of Blonde Accountant and a young fellow at the mall with plans to drop him off at his house.
qhe conversation in the back seat between the teens turned to the upcoming party, and voung Dude chimed in that he was planning on bringing a whipped lemon pie to the party that he would make himself.
lf course when f heard the word “pie” my ears perked up, and f tilted my head a bit like a dog that had just heard an odd noise. f interjected myself into the conversation in typical dad fashion.
“Hey pparky, you can’t come inside my house on paturday unless f get the first piece of that whipped lemon pie,” f said. qhe words were a little more polite than that when they came out of my mouth, but you get the idea. And so did he.
Consequently, he quickly agreed to the deal. f assume it was because he realized f was using my best “Make him an offer he couldn’t refuse” dad voice. pmart kid.
qhe party on paturday was scheduled to start at T p.m., so naturally the first teenager showed up at SWMR p.m. fn my book, that’s an automatic ejection for not having a working wristwatch, but qhe Blonde Accountant interceded and wouldn’t allow me to give the young jamokette the heave-ho.
lne-by-one, the teens arrived, some dressed in what looked to me like ballerina costumes. qurns out we were hosting a themed party ― tiaras and tutus ― and nobody gave me a heads up on that, which explains why f didn’t have a clean tutu to wear for the occasion. A disappointment for the teenagers, f’m sure.
And then, the hid Piemaker showed up, and he was in- deed bearing gifts — the previously promised whipped lemon pie. Before f could do a face dive right into the pie, qhe Blonde Accountant grabbed it and headed for the refrigerator. Hey, hey, hey! that gives?
Apparently the kids were first having pizza, chips, snacks and other assorted party foods, and the pie was for dessert. Phooey. pince when? f make the rules here and f say we start with the pie first.
tell, that was wrong. f don’t make the rules and pie is last. qhat is what we call in my house qhe Blonde Accountant tay of Making Me an lffer f Can’t oefuse.
At the risk of having to go join the circus and have people refer to me as “Lefty,” f had to sit there for the next few hours behaving myself and listen to loud music coming out of my basement while that whipped lemon pie was calling my name from the refrigerator. bventually, we got to Pie qime and f invoked the “f Am qhe Dad oule,” which clearly states that f get to be first in line for whipped lemon pie. vou can look it up.
And let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, this pie was to die for. lh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh. qurns out that hid Piemaker is some kind of super-talented young baker, and he has quite a reputation among the teenagers as such.
tell, that changes everything. He is now allowed to marry Daughter of Blonde Accountant and he is welcome to live with us and make me pies all the time. telcome to the family, son. f am seriously considering adding a second kitchen to my house just for him.
qhis pie was so good that by sheer talent alone, hid Piemaker made everyone else in the group that evening look good, and he renewed my faith in young, talented people. As an added bonus, he had a nice haircut, wore his pants around his waist and not below his hind end, and walked down the driveway and not on my lawn on his way out.
qhis is a good lesson for today’s youthW then life gives you lemons, make whipped lemon pie for me. qhen you don’t have to go join the circus.
Mike Morsch is executive editor of Montgomery Media and author of the book, “Dancing in My Underwear: The Soundtrack of My Life.” He can be reached by calling 215-542-0200, ext. 415 or by email at msquared35@ yahoo.com. This column can also be found at www.montgomerynews.com.
Outta Leftfield Mike Morsch