Nicole Johnstone/Stuff

Briar Babington.

OPINION: Sometimes, life likes to land you flat on your bum.

It likes to remind you that no matter how grown up, mature or put together you might feel on any given day, one or both of your parents will always be there to do something so embarrassing you want to become invisible.

One such incident happened this week at one of my favourite cafes, and now I can never go back there.

I'll just have to admire their cheese and bacon scones longingly from afar from now on.

It's good to know, that even at 24 years of age, my dad still loves to embarrass the heck out of me.

Even when he's not trying.

This week I arranged a lunch date with Mother Dearest (MD).

Our text exchange went like this:

Me: "Hey Mum, want to grab lunch today?"

MD: "Why? Did you not have any leftovers from tea?"

Me: "No."

MD: "Fine. Where at what time?"

We arranged to meet at a popular café and upon arrival, MD told me she had also invited Dad for lunch, but he was running a bit late.

We ordered and sat down and while we were waiting, MD and I chatted about potential Christmas holiday plans.

This mostly involved me trying to convince her to book flights to the North Island sooner rather than later, because, you know, Christmas prices.

She was halfway through a sentence when all of a sudden, she stopped and said "oh my god" very slowly.

I turned to where she was looking, only to have my eyes go wide and jaw drop in horror of what I was seeing walking down the block.

Dressed in a full length bright red snow suit-type contraption, sticking out like a sore thumb, was my dad.

Mum put her head in her hands while I slowly shook my head at the walking embarrassment that was about to enter the café and sit down at a table with us.

There was no escaping it. I swear, it felt like people would have been able to see the suit from Tay St.

"I can't believe your father's worn that here."

When Dad sat down at the table, almost looking please with himself, MD and I just stared at him with unimpressed looks on our faces.

"Did you really have to bring the snowsuit out, Dad?" I said.

He actually looked oblivious when I asked him.

Now, I know Invercargill isn't exactly known for its tropical climate, but this particular day actually wasn't too bad.

It was more than 12 degrees Celsius, which is a bonus for a Southland winter, and the sun was shining.

There was no imminent threat of snow, yet, sitting at the table, was a man in bright red snowsuit.

The most ridiculous part is five minutes into sitting down at lunch, Dad declared he was feeling a bit too warm and toddled off to the bathroom to shed the abhorrent article.

Basically, I'll never be able to show my face at that café ever again.

I'll forever be known as the girl who had lunch with the guy who looked like he was dressed up and ready to skydive out of a plane after a spot of lunch.

But, while I wanted to die in mortification of what my dad was wearing, really we sort of all forgot about it a good 10 minutes after he changed out of it.

It probably helped that the suit was stuffed away out of sight so neither MD or myself could be reminded of the monstrosity.

But really, parents wouldn't be doing their jobs if they weren't embarrassing their children in some form, right?

For all his fashion faux pas that Dad commits on a semi-regular basis (i.e. when MD and I aren't there to approve certain outfits), him being his wacky self is one of the things we cherish most about him.

 - Stuff