The Infamous Milkshake Disaster

My dad is turning 90 next week, and even though he has the best memory of anyone I know, it's fun to challenge him, now and then, just to see if he still remembers some of his finest moments in parenting the SJG.  I can usually tell within seconds if his instant recall has kicked in or not.  "Daddy, do you remember the Infamous Milkshake Disaster?  Circa 1967?"  He starts laughing.  "On Lindbrook?" he asks.  "I had this special milkshake maker thingy," I say.  "You poured the milk and the chocolate powder into the cup, and put the funny top on and shook it up and down and voila, instant milkshake.  So I decided I was going to do it myself, like a big girl.  Check me out, I'm making my own milkshake.  I shook it up and down and the top flew off and the milkshake went everywhere."  "On the ceiling. On the walls, on the floor.  All over the fridge," he says.  "And you were so nice about it.  You didn't get mad."  "Why would I get mad?  You didn't do it on purpose," he says.  "You got up on a chair to get it off the ceiling and the cabinets," I say.  "We didn't want Mom to find out," he says.  "I'm sure she found out anyway," I say.  "Not from me," he says.  Great secret-keeper, too.