Weekend with Mr. Frowny Pants

My dad thinks everything is weird.  I gave him a 10 minute summary of the Shakers, their history and beliefs.  "Weird."  The monumental mound of bat shit and roaches sitting in a cave on the television on Planet Earth: "Weird."  Anything remotely interesting or different: "Weird."  My appreciation of Otis Redding: "Weird.  He's old you know."  Also, he hates the smell of spring.  "Too sweet," he says. 

"You don't like much," I told him.  We take a 2 hour hike through the woods, and all he can talk about is the power lines.  Additionally, he seemed to think my chocolate chip pancakes were a little weird.  "You're gonna make me chocolate chip pancakes?  If you say so."  This was his first time having chocolate chip pancakes.  "What is good about these," he says, "is that the taste of the chocolate is disguised.  They are not that chocolatey."  "Thanks" I say, "and you're welcome."  I don't know what about the month of May could be making him so huffity.