Conversation With My Papa

"It's Sunday today. Papa, can you please dye your hair...??" I asked.

My father started to run his hand through his white, shiny, 2 inches long strands sitting clam, without caring to respond to what I said.

"Papa, are you even listening...?" I asked again.

"Why are you caring so much about it all of a sudden."

Mom asked me back as she came inside the room with tea in her hand for papa.

"You know what happened....? Yesterday when we went to the mobile store to get my screen replaced, that man there called him uncle. 

How could he say that...?!!!"  I exclaimed.

Both of them started to laugh.

"A lot of people call me uncle now," Papa said scratching his beard, without looking at me.

"Why....?? It annoyed me even more to hear this.

"Tell me how old that man looked to you," Mom asked.

"He must be of around twenty-five," I recalled my thoughts.

"Then what else did you expect for him to call your father...?"

Mom asked resting her chin on her hand.

For a minute I stayed silent as I couldn't find a better argument anymore and then I said, "I just want papa to dye his hair and that's it..."