Crossed Wires

The other night, Dad and I were outside walking towards the house. I heard him say something and turned to ask him what he said. He repeated it.

“Do you want me to scrape the house for the pancakes?” He asked.

“What?” I replied because I didn’t understand what he just said.

He repeated himself with more emphasis. “Do you want me to scrape the house for the pancakes?”

Again, I replied but with a little unbelief in my voice, “WHAT? Dad that doesn’t make any sense.”

He was getting angry now. “Oh, Goddammit,” he said with a raised voice.

“Sorry, Dad. I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” I replied. I was thinking our wires must be crossed, as they say.

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He repeated the same thing again, except this time he used hand motions to convey his message. “Do you want me to scrape (hands motioning like a window cleaner cleaning a window with a squeegee) the house for the pancakes (motioning his hands as if he was bouncing a ball)?

Now I was thinking does he have full-blown Alzheimer’s or is it me? Do I have dementia? Good grief!

About that time I woke up and thought to myself, thank the heavens it was just a dream!