Helicopter

When I was a teenager, my mom attended a seminar about parenting and parenting styles, and came home with descriptions that fit herself and my dad perfectly. Mom is a drill sergeant ("When I say jump, you better jump!") and Dad is a helicopter ("I will rescue you and protect you from the cruel world!"). I know my dad loves us very much and that is what prompts his protective behavior, but we have teased him about his hovering tendencies ever since then.

After I got married and moved away from home, Dad didn't hover as much, but every now and then he still gets into his "helicopter" mode. I had to laugh about one of my dad's phone calls this week. I could almost hear the rotor blades whirring in the background.

On Friday afternoon, my husband (home from work sick) was asleep in bed when the phone rang. I could not get up to answer the telephone because Drew was asleep on my lap and Gracie was sitting with me looking at a toy catalog. My husband woke up and groggily answered the telephone. It was my mom. They didn't talk long because he was half asleep and not feeling well. About half an hour later, the telephone woke him up again. This time it was my dad. "You all aren't suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning, are you?" I guess he had taken into account the fact that my husband sounded groggy on the phone, we were all sick at the same time, and had had furnace trouble earlier in the week, and let his imagination go from there. My husband assured him that we all had head colds, that we have an electric furnace, and that the reason he sounded groggy was that he had just woken up to answer the telephone.

My husband really took it pretty well. He told me that he now sees where I get it from, because I am a "helicopter," too.