Your father tells this story about his mother that I absolutely love, because 1) it says a lot about her personality and 2) it makes her more real to me, which means a lot because I never got to meet her.
I’m going to retell it, but you should really get it straight from your old man; first person account and all. But, I will try my best…
Your father was a kid in this story; probably around middle school. He and your Grandma (his mom) were ribbing each other one day, just being smart-aleks, when your Dad gives your Grandma a good zinger. Grandma grabs a stuffed duck from the floor and whallops her son over the head with it. Serves him right! …right?
Only…your Dad starts groaning in pain, grabbing his head.
Grandma tells him to stop being dramatic.
“Mom!” Your dad groans, “There’s a brick in that!”
Sure enough, the duck is a fabric doorstop with a brick sewn in to the middle. Oops.
Grandma immediately starts apologizing and inspecting your father’s head…while laughing. On one hand, she is mortified that she’s just hit her son in the head with a brick (a brick!!) On the other hand, she’s managed to accidentally brain her son with a stuffed duck.
Classic stuff right there 🙂