Okay, so the tone of that last one might've been a little off. Even with all his ribbing and being what he- and only he- thinks is funny, I love dad. And he loves me. We have our issues, but isn't that normal?
They take care of me, I provide them with a never-ending supply of love and companionship. They feed me, I allow them to clean up my poop.
You see how it works. All in all, though he's pretty much a full-time ding dong, dad's a great guy (and he's loving typing this, just so you know).
Mom's the most awesome mom in the world (you owe him one, mom), and the three of us are best friends.
Despite his previously-mentioned mean streak dad really is a loving, grumpy, hilarious, crusty, handsome, annoying, thoughtful, aggravating gentle soul. Dear me, I think I'm gonna yack from all the cheese interspersed in that sentence.
Anyway, if there ever was any question about my relationship with dad this should show what's what.