“Your Mon is getting odd.”
“What do you mean by odd?” I ask without looking at him, paying attention to the road as I drive.
“Yesterday afternoon, when I arrived in town, your Mom asked me to take him to the beauty salon for a facial treatment.”
“That’s not odd.”
“But she just had her hair dyed two days ago. You don’t know Pita. Your Mom visits the beauty salon almost every week.”
“Well…maybe she just needs a little external help to fight her aging process, “I try to defend Mom.
“That shows that your Mom has low self-esteem. It’s a natural process to have gray hair and wrinkles when people get old.”
I just shrug my shoulder. I don’t know what to say. As I grow up, I watch my parent get older in age, and sometimes I notice they behave childishly.
There are some times when Mom complains to me, “Your Dad does this….your Dad does that.”
But other times, Dad turns to me, “ You Mom does this….you Mom does that.”
I can’t remember when they started developing the habit of using “your Mom” or “your Dad” phrases when they talk to me. The reference seems to distance themselves but still involve me.
