That's right..... I call my dad "Monkey Boy".
I originally wrote this several years ago, but thought it was time to share once again...
Several years ago our garage door opener was broken. The very heavy door had to be opened and closed manually. We had to wait for a part and dealing with the door was becoming a real pain for me.
My parents came for a 2-week visit. Each time we went anywhere Dad handled the door. It was so nice not having to do it myself.
One day I drove up to the garage door and Dad immediately jumped out to open it. I said something like "look at him go, just like a little trained monkey."
Being a Flintstones fan, it reminded me of how Wilma would press a button and instead of gears and wires inside the appliance there was a little animal inside doing the work.
I called Dad my "little monkey" and for the rest of their visit whenever I pressed that useless button he would get out of the car and open the garage.
Dad is helpful whenever he visits - carrying the groceries, doing the dishes, fixing things.
One day after carrying in some boxes Dad said to me
"It's nice having Monkey Boy around isn't it? "
He's been my Monkey Boy ever since.
He's not only helpful....he's loving, generous, and very funny. I am so blessed to have him!