Amber and I went wine touring on Salt Spring Island yesterday. We ended up with two designated drivers because we had to call our dads to come collect us from the Salt Spring Winery vineyards.
We giggled under the sunshine with 2 bottles of wine and a plate of goat cheese. I convinced Amber that it’s standard protocol to drink too much and call dad. I also clogged the sink in the boat within 4 hours of arriving to Salt Spring – it’s one of those things that daughters do.
I was about to pull out 2 more wine glasses when we got the phone call from the parking lot. Convincingly, my Uncle Gary put his stern face on and we felt like 14-year-old girls about to get scolded. I laughed, like I always do, but I wasn’t sure if Uncle Gary was annoyed.
Five minutes into our drive home Dad slowly pulls over to the edge of the road and I had this odd feeling like I was about to get grounded. It turns out we were just stopping for a roadside antique sale. Amber and I stood there suppressing laughter as our dads shopped, and again I felt 12.
My Uncle David said he knew something was up when he saw my Dad & Uncle Gary walking down the dock with “shit-eating grins on their faces.”
I guess we were as charming as I suspected.