"POISON"

For the last three weeks, while getting ready to move into my new place, I've been staying with my parents in the KC 'burbs, and this is, hands down, the most consecutive time I've spent with them since I moved out ten years ago. 

For the most part, they're normal folks, but I'm starting to notice some of their quirks.

For example, my mom's morning routine includes drinking coffee and watching the weather while brushing the cat, and at least once a week my dad brings home leftovers from his neighborhood hangout, announcing to an indifferent audience, "I've got livers and gizzards. Who wants some?" He has also been known to enjoy the occasional episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (though he'll tell you it's my mom).

Last night after brushing my teeth in their bathroom, I found them stretched out in their respective recliners watching Dancing with Desperate Former Celebrities, or something like that. I had discovered something peculiar that demanded an explanation.

Me: "Do I even want to know why there's a giant Tylenol bottle by the sink labeled 'POISON?'"

My mom, who throws away everything on the exact date it expires, pointed to my dad, whose advice for eating past-prime foods is "just cut the mold off and it will be fine."

Dad: "That's mine."

Me: "Why do you have poison in the bathroom?"

Mom: *shakes her head* "Your father..."

Dad: "It expired, and your mother was going to throw it away. I told her I'd keep it."

Me: "So it's not really poison?"

Dad: "Your mother thinks it is."