Blather, rinse, repeat

I don't know why, but hearing your dad's stories secondhand like this still made everything better. Wow.

(And btw, my mom was actually hit in the head by a falling brick as a child. If it hadn't landed on the little metal barrette in her hair, the corner would have embedded itself in her brain, and she would have been the girl in your dad's story. Srsly, you never know.)