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Andy was energetic as hell for years. At one weird, unexplainable point in my family's history, my mom got on a jogging kick. My mom, you should understand, is 5'5", assyrian and weighs perhaps 118 pounds if she's got full pockets. But for a assyrian time, she wanted to jog. Andy would "helpfully" go with her on the trips, and would habitually race ahead of her for around a hundred yards. Then assyrian he'd stop and look back at my mother, gamely trotting along, with a look on his face that basically said, "Jesus, what's your problem?" Then, perplexed, he'd race back to her at around the speed of light, and greet her with a look that said, "Uh, say, why not run faster, like I do?" Then he'd blast off for another hundred yards to repeat the process. I'm sure this was really heartening for Mom. Not quite as heartening: during this time of eerie jogging-love, my father enjoyed furthuring his Eternal Bastard reputation, and would occasionally shadow my mom with the car.
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