My Own Personal Vaudeville Act

There is no other way to describe the banter that sometimes takes place between my parents, then to call it a vaudeville act. Their back and forth comedy repertoire is well known in my family and within their circle of close friends as nothing less than entertaining.

My father typically uses third person in reference to my mother, even if he is talking directly to her, so I imagine he always thinks he has an audience. My mother's voice tends to escalate at least 10 decibels when she is engrossed in conversation. These two idiosyncrasies alone, make for some big time funny.

On Saturday, before we sat down for our extravagant lunch that no one was particularly hungry for after some good eats in Synagogue, my Mom entered into conversation about her impending exit from my home and return to hers, as her construction is nearing its end.

Mom: "You are going to miss me."

Me: "Well Hun is going to miss you."

Mom: "Yes, isn't that nice, I have a son-in-law who is going to miss me."

Hun: "I like to hear what you have to say Maa."

Mom: "Isn't that nice, I have a son-in-law who WANTS to hear what I have to say."

Me: "I guess I did well for you then Mom."

Mom: "Yes you did, you did very well."

Now, granted, my Mom and Dad only live about seven blocks away from me, but as you might have noticed, I avoided answering the question of whether or not I would miss them. And I was thinking about it all through lunch, when my parents began their latest Vaudeville act.

My parents began talking about their house. How my mother can't wait to cook in her new kitchen. And the first thing my father wants to do is hang pictures back up on the wall. And then of all things, the conversation turned to toothpaste.

Dad: "Your Mom will spend good money on some things, but she won't spend money on a new tube of toothpaste."

Mom: "I will spend the money on a new tube when the old one is finished."

Dad: "Na! You nickle and dime every tube."

Mom: "I know how to get every last penny out of it."

Dad: "I throw away the tube, and I think she takes it back out of the garbage."

Mom: "You throw it out, I can get another week out of it."

Dad: "She squeezes the heck out of it, I throw it away again, and again she takes it out of the garbage."

Mom: "I can get another week out of it."

Dad: "Yeah, I think you can afford a new tube of toothpaste. She takes it out, she squeezes it. She can't let go of a tube of toothpaste."

Mom: "You always have something to complain about. I get use out of toothpaste for another week, you won't let me clean your dirty shirts, because they are not dirty enough for you. You need to wear dirty shirts for another week?"

Dad: "Na! They are not dirty, you don't need to have the vasher going to clean, clean shirts."

Mom: "No, I can't clean the dirty shirts, but you would throw anything away, one day you will just throw me away..."

I think this sketch went on another fifteen minutes or so. And if it doesn't seem funny in this blog, I guess you had to be there. Included in the banter, is my father's Eastern European accent and my mother's bellowing voice.

And what did I realize from all of this, besides for the fact that my parents are a little nuts.

I will miss them. They will be a two minute car ride away (20 minutes if I have to bundle three kids up and buckle 'em in), but I will miss the immediate banter and entertainment I have become so used to for the past year and three months. And when they have their banter at their house, it will just be weird when my father uses his third person in reference to my mother and he lacks an audience. I will miss them.