Today's Nordyne blog asked, "What is the best advice your dad has ever given you?"
Well, Nordyne, if you must know...
This may not necessarily be the best advice, but it is the most memorable.
In 5th grade, apparently I was rather rambunctious (OMG, hardest word to spell, ever!). This was the first year we switched classes for every core class. Mr. Collins was my Social Studies teacher. I truly remember enjoying his class a lot. We got to re enact wars. And important trials. And then watch them/us on TV! I don't know if his class was right after lunch or what, but he called home weekly, sometimes probably more, to complain about precious little me. It probably went something like this, "Jessica talks too much. Jessica doesn't sit still. Jessica is so awesome, I am jealous and don't know what else to do besides try to get her in trouble." I quickly learned to pray that Dad answers the phone. Because if mom answered, I was in wayyyyyyyyyyyy more trouble. We're talking no dessert.
I remember getting home from wherever I was, probably soccer practice. And my dad being in the kitchen, and mom in the basement. My dad said (insert most memorable advice ever given), "just plead the fifth." Meanwhile, my mom is calling me to the basement (don't worry, this time "basement" is not synonymous with "dungeon", mom was probably crafting.) I cocked my pretty little head in confusion at dad, and headed towards the basement. Dad followed, repeating, "just plead the fifth." Still confused as to what "plead the fifth" actually meant, I was stopped dead in my tracks by Mom. Again dad says, "just plead fifth." He giggles. By this time, I'm sure I figured out what was going on. CRAP! Mr. Collins called home and mom answered! I am DEAD. MEAT. Mom looked at me, probably had her hands on her hips and I'm sure asked, "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I plead the fifth."
Happy Father's Day, Dad! You are the bomb.
I LOVE YOU!
Have a GREAT weekend!