Turning Into My...Dad??

My dear old Dad (and maybe some other "older" members of the family that shall remain nameless) has inspired a game Charles and I sometimes play.

It's called "Dear Old Me," as in, "Dear Me-When-I'm-an-Old-Person."  It's a way we remind ourselves of the annoying things our parents do in hopes that we can somehow avoid doing these things to our own children when they are grown adults.

For instance, a few months ago we went on a trip, with my dad, that required passports.  Our passports were expiring, and we needed to get some for the kids - so, the entire family needed new ones (and I'll say here that passports are expensive...!).  For, oh, SIX MONTHS or so leading up to the trip, every.single.conversation with my Dad went a little something like this:

Dad: Do you have your passports yet?
Me: No, we'll get them soon.
Dad: Well, you need passports or you can't board.
Me: I know.  That was the case last time, as well.
Dad: Well, you need them for the kids too.
Me: I know.  We're going to get them.
Dad: Well, if you don't have them for the kids you can't leave the country if there's a medical emergency.
Me: I know, we'll have passports.

It was a running joke between my siblings and I.  Did Dad ask you about your passport today?

So, Charles and I would joke around and say things like, "Dear Old Me, when your kids are adults who have traveled to other countries all on their own and have had passports for most of their lives, don't forget that they know they need a passport to leave the country and that they are perfectly capable of getting one all on their own."

Hahaha, Dad's so old...right?

Well, it's all fun and games until I realize I'M becoming the Old Person.  Old Me, early.

There, I said it.  I'm becoming old.  I'm becoming my Dad.

I'm leaving on a cruise in just a few short days.  I've been digging through the Disney Cruise Line website (it is amazing!) and poring over my printed-out itinerary.  I know what excursions we've booked, I've got our passports stacked on my desk, and I'm packing.

All that organization is kind of Dad-like on its own, but that's not really what I'm talking about.

My sister will be joining me on this cruise.  Auntie Polly.  I will, at times, need her help...maybe even so far as to have her watch the kids entirely on her own while I escape for an hour or two of quiet time to blog.  I had to fight the urge to write in "Might need help with kids here..." on the itinerary, highlight it, and send it to her.  No, really...I wanted to do that.  As if she's going to be so busy off gallivanting around the cruise ship on her own that I need to pencil her help in in advance.

And then, I need to make sure she knows about the dress code at dinner time.  No tank tops or shorts!  I feel compelled to tell her this, right.this.very.second.  And so when I saw an email from her pop up in my inbox, I responded and then added the Very Important Dress Code information.  As if she doesn't know that she might need some kinda dressy clothes on a cruise.

Tonight, I printed out the awesome customized pre-arrival guide and thought, "Should I print out an extra copy for Polly?"  You know, so I could hand it to her when I see her right before we board the ship?

I don't know why I feel compelled to suddenly micromanage this trip.

But I do know I'll be calling Polly tomorrow and reminding her to bring her passport.  Because she can't board without it!