The Dad has a talent for explaining life in the weirdest ways.
Once he explained to me the mystery of facial hair. I had been particularly curious as a young, beardless child to a man with a full beard and inquired as to the process. This was for future knowledge if I were to ever decide that I, too, wanted a beard. He told me that men were only able to grow beards if they held the hair in their mouth. They weren’t allowed to speak for months then because if they did all the hair would fall out. I believed him.
I also found myself hopeless baffled during a few years stint when The Dad had to commute a fair distance to work and was gone several days a week. I asked him what he was doing at this job, and I got this elaborate story complete with a top-knotch Spy School and missions that would yield the common man to his knees in fear.
After a certain point, The Dad could have said things that were clearly true such as a comment on the blue nature of the sky, and I wouldn’t believe him. Most comments led to a dramatic turn on my part to The Mom and an exasperated inquiry as to whether or not the aforementioned statement was true or not. This led to many moments of hilarity and further gullible moments.
I should have expected ludicrousness when I decided to ask what The Year of the Cicadas was, as I had been hearing about it in school and on TV, but I asked anyway. The Dad launched into this brilliant story of a Cicada’s life and purpose.
Every few years these nasty looking bugs call Cicadas hatch and crawl out of the ground.
They then crawl up the trees and meet other nasty looking bugs. They find boy bugs and girl bugs that are very nice, and then they get married.
After they get married they have little Cicada babies, and then those babies fall down to the ground for the next few years. It’s a cycle of life and love. It’s the Year of the Cicadas.
I guess that story wasn’t entirely wrong…