Being the last child means I have to do all the grunt work in the family.
For example, driving my grandmother around.
On Sunday, family dinner time, I managed to be late, and so my dad had to go pick up my grandma which apparently is strictly my role in this family.
Not that I don’t love my grandma, I just don’t love being her taxi.
As dinner stretched into the night, me and my dad exchanged glances…narrowing our eyes…knowing that at some point…one of us was going to be the driver.
I pretty much lost that battle withing 14 seconds of my dad telling me I was the one that would be driving Grandma home.
But hey, being the family runt has perks.
Later in the week, Mother Nature blessed us with a blanketing of snow, giving us the mythical ‘Snow Day.’
I was really excited to spend quality time with my basement, but, Dad promptly told me Grandma needed her driveway shoveled.
Begrudgingly I donned my boots and hat, and ventured over the river and through the woods and also through the ghetto to get to Grandmother’s house.
Lucky me, Grandma gave me a crisp fitty dollar bill. She told me its enough to buy a couple of gallons of gas, which is depressingly true.