Pulling my hair out would probably be less painful

This morning Grandpop walks into the kitchen and Grandmom says, "George go fix your hair, you look like Hitler."
"Me?" he asks, "I didn't do it on purpose."

Then Grandmom tells him to go put something in the bathroom...
"The bathroom?" he asks seeming very confused, like she had said 'go run a marathon and put peanut butter in your hair.'
"Yes the bathroom!" she barks.
"The bathroom, yeah, that's the room with the running water and the shower," he tells us as if we are African bushmen fresh off the refugee plane.
"Yes it is George," she says with another long sigh.

Oh and this is great...
Last night Marguerite stopped by and brought Grandpop a big book, with lots of pictures all about Nazis and the Third Reich. He leafs through it for a while and Marguerite asks him if it's any good.
"I've read it before," he tells her.
She nicely replies he certainly could have read it since it was printed in 1961.
"I read it in 1935," he snaps back.
"It's about World War II," she says, "in the 1940's."
"I know," he says again.
She and I just look at each other and give up- knowing it's a lost cause.

The other day Grandmom was talking about this car she saw the other day...
"I saw a Camaro on the road and it was really pretty," she said.
Of course Grandpop didn't understand and asks, "A Camaro, what's that?"
"A Chevy!" she yells back.
"Oh," he says, "I thought it was a bird."

Then I say something about driving and he asks,
"Drive? What's that mean?"
Grandmom says, "You know- you get in a car, turn the key and go- what the Hell do you think it means?"

And no, we never get tired of repeating every single thing that comes out of our mouths. Really it's fun to say everything twice, just like who doesn't like to have two times as much money or candy, you know?