Warning: escalates quickly

no really, prepare for drama


I knew instantly what day is it today. How? I smelled it. No other day in the year does our house smell of roses. Especially this much. It even beat the ever-present smell of pasta - so you know it has to be a damn amount of those flowers, since pasta is a life necessity for Papa (ok, for me too - once, when I was like 8, I was on some random summer camp and when I didn't get pasta for 14 days straight I was trembling like Ashleigh when she drinks way too much coffee because she'd spent last night searching for spicy memes for America's Meme trade and conspiracy theories and watching those videos "to watch at 3 am instead of sleeping" and I couldn't concentrate for longer than Dory from Finding Nemo, so they called my dads, they got freaking terrified and thinking the end is near took me home. Aaaand turns out I was just low on pasta. I ate three bags of spaghetti and two whole jars of pasta sauce....yup.

And the camp counselors were like "Oh my god are you okay??" and I was like "dO I LOoK oKaY?!"

That's a long sentence....)

Anyway

Roses. Each year dads compete who will be the first to give them to the other. And how much of them will it be. If they continue like this, we won't have anywhere to put them when I'm older..

I'm waiting for one of them to JUST BUY A WHOLE BUSH! JESUS! Our garden can handle that! Come onnnn!

Mr England has some rose bushes in his garden, or at least that's what George says. He once bragged about how boring tending to them is, but I'd gladly do that.

My dads are real idiots sometimes.

Don't tell them I told you.

As expected, downstairs was a mess. Vati tried to make waffles and coffee with Papa clinging to his back, hugging him from behind.

"Verdammt, Feliciano, I'm going to spill my coffee!"

Papa said nothing and kept Ve-ing. (That's a verb now. Deal with it.)

The formula:

One clingy mixed signals-sending Italian + one socially awkward German = real mess

So I guess I'm real mess now. Okay then.

Not as much mess as Gabe though...he's a mess of a different kind. Ashleigh says she's a mess, too, so join the club I guess?

Berlitz and Blackie were watching Vati trying to balance out Papa, a mug of coffee and a plate with breakfast from a safe spot on the floor, while Mitzi and Aster waited for something to fall from the table. Something had to fall sooner or later, no?

Their logic was correct. Papa started uhhh, -let me just check no one is around-kissing Vati, who became flustered and that was also the moment Aster decided to jump at him from the front, and Aster isn't small, so dads, Aster, the mug and the plate fell over.

Aster and Mitzi used the moment to devour the waffle while Vati shrieked "NEIN ASTER!" and Papa, still cuddled, cried "Veeeeeee".

I honestly didn't know if I should laugh or cry.

"I told you Feli!"

"I knoooooow, but I just wanted to cuddleeee!

Annoyed "humpf" could be heard from miles away.

"What am I going to do with you?" Vati asked rhetorically with a tiny smile.

"Have another child? I'd really like a sibling!" I interrupted. Both noticed me just now.

From the diary of Griselda Vargas-BeilschmidtWhere stories live. Discover now