A scene enacted every night in this household.

[snarp]

At 9:00 PM:

(I bring a needle of insulin over to the dog, who is sitting next to Dad.)

Me: Look what time it is, fluffy dog! It's time for your shot! Oh-yes-it-is.

(Dad turns his head away, closes his eyes, and crosses his arms over his chest defensively, making a high-pitched whimpering sound. The dog wags.)

Dad: Oh, you're hurting him, you're hurting him -

Me: I'm already done. You're making a bigger deal out of this than he is.

Dad, pretending to cry: No, honey, it hurts, he's a good boy, it's a really big needle and it hurts and it's scary, you're scaring my little buddy -

Me: Someday Mom and I aren't going to be here to give him his shot, and you'll have to do it.

Dad: I'll call your grandfather.



(And at 10:00 PM, a scene enacted more irregularly:

Rachel Maddow (not actually in our living room): And here's the Last Word, with Ezra Klein standing in for Lawrence O'Donnell!

(Dad changes the channel.)

Me: So you don't want to watch Ezra Klein?

Dad: No, I want to watch Bill Maher.

Me: You realize that you are everything that is wrong with the Democratic party.

Dad: Okay, okay, I'm changing it back!

(I leave the room anyway, because he always just switches it back to Maher after about two minutes.))