Hold Your What?

In the nearly 20 years that Daddy and I have been married, he has never willingly held my purse. I mean not for a second without making some crazy "it has cooties" kind of look on his face. You'd think it was a poisonous object that would kill him.
It's a running joke between us. We'll be out and I'll spot some man holding a purse. I point out the man holding the purse every time. I mention that he looks like he is simply holding an object, rather than looking like it's a bomb about to blow up. Daddy always smirks.
We were at the Fifth Third Winter Wonderfest last weekend when the brunette twin tried to hand her father her purse. He looked at her like she was crazy. I didn't see what she was trying to do, but I did see his face. I said, "What are you doing?" She replied, "I'm trying to give Daddy my purse before we go on the Tilt A Whirl."
I laughed and said, "Oh honey, he loves you a lot, but he doesn't love you that much." She seemed shocked that he wouldn't hold her purse. I looked at him and rolled my eyes as he laughed. If nothing else, he is consistent.