The Remote

My daddy is my first hero.  He can do almost anything. 

He can build things.  He can hunt, fish, and grow things in the garden.  His lawn and flowers are to be envied.  His orchard produces lovely fruit that he then makes into delicious jellies.

He and my mother have been married almost forty years.  They raised two successful, happy, and may I say attractive children.  He is an expert in his field. He was an amazing baseball player. 

He is a quiet observer, but he always has good advice when you need it.  He would give you the shirt off his back if you  needed it.

But there is one thing I don't think I'll be asking my sweet daddy to help with...EVER.  Hooking up electronics. 

Brian and I gave my parents a tv for their bedroom a month or so ago.  It's a little smaller than the one they had before, but it's a flat screen instead of the big dinosaur they had in there before.  The problem arose when they switched out the tvs.  The new tv wasn't in sync with that satellite box and remote, so they need one remote to turn on the tv and one to work the satellite box. 

My precious father has on more than one occasion accidentally pushed a button on the TV remote that renders the TV unwatchable.  Now, he is a problem solver.  In his line of work, he has to be. So he continues to punch buttons, trying to get the picture to come on.  Eventually in frustration he gives up and my mother calls me.  I try to solve the problem over the phone, but we so many remotes at our house that I can't remember what he needs to push.

Good thing that we only live 5 minutes away.  Usually the call comes about the time I have just put my pajamas on or am about to.  I change again quickly, and Brian and I drive over and fix it.

Daddy's getting savvier though; last time we were half way there when my mom called and said he had figured it out.  So, we pulled in to the Sonic for a smoothie and a sundae instead.