The kid and his mother (the Persian woman who lives in my house) were catching a flight to Iran the other day…….

ME(At work): Where are you?

THE KID: Checking in.

ME: When the stewardess leans over to serve you dinner, fight the urge to stare into the valley inside her blouse. Remember, you’re flying to the land of the virtuous.

THE KID: 😂😂😂😂See you in 5 weeks, Dad…..

ME: Did I tell you that I love you? ❤️❤️❤️❤️

THE KID: Yes, a zillion times.

ME: And be careful. Don’t burst out laffin’, the first time you see an aye-a-tolla.

THE KID: Okay, Okay I won’t (***giggles***)

ME: And if anyone calls you ‘pedarsaikh’, he’s insulting me. Remember the Glock34 I packed in yore carry-on baggage? Gun him down in cold blood with it. (***The term ‘pedarsaikh’ is a good natured curse word in Farsi that everybody uses in Iran every day, which literally means ‘son of a dog’***)

THE KID: 😁😁😁😁😁 stop it, I’m gettin’ a crick in my jaw!!

ME: Better ta be prepared, kid. Did you pack the armour piercing rounds?

THE KID:😷😷😷😷😷Please, desist, dear father. I shall do as you say.

ME: Are you hungry? Have you eaten?

THE KID: Yeah, we just had some garam kuttas (I have taught the kid to say ‘hot dogs’ in Hindi).

ME: Good kid. You’ll go far. Have fun. Take yore time comin’ back. I need some peace and sawlichude.