Missing Pieces

My Dad stands, hovering, with an intense look on his face, over the large table where my family eats when we have get-togethers.  His hands behind his back, he bends forward.  As he does so, he momentarily releases one hand to adjust his glasses.  A 2000 piece jigsaw puzzle lies before him.

Like a general adjusting troops in a WWII movie, he reaches down and slides a piece toward a hole in the puzzle.  

"Hmm."  It doesn't appear to fit.  Another fires itself towards the breach.  No dice.

Noticing I'd entered, he quickly greets me and turns back to the mission at hand.  Things may be getting serious.

"Hello, Son."

On the other side of the table, several pieces find themselves grouped by color.  Walking to get a closer look, an out of place piece grabs my attention.  Picking it up, I place it into the missing spot my father was battling.  It's a perfect fit.

We both erupt into laughter.