It was Easter Sunday and dinner was ready.

Nothing fancy. I just fried up some piergoi I made earlier in the week, heated up some Polish sausage, and roasted a bunch of frozen Brussel sprouts from the freezer.

I shouted out to my father-in-law that I was bringing him some food. His reply was to say thanks — and then go mow the lawn.

Welcome to The Quarantine Life with my 80-something-year-old father-in-law.

It’s been just the two of us for the last two weeks as my husband, a nurse working on a COVID-19 unit, isolates himself at another house. And let me tell you, from what I’ve seen of my friends posting about their young kids on social media, life with an 80-something isn’t all the different from parenting an 8 year old.

My father-in-law is in his 80s and my dad is 79, which is as good as 80 in my mind. And trying to keep them from unwitting self-destruction has been an adventure.

My dad has been slightly easier to keep safe. He goes to the grocery store once a week and out for walks, telling me how good he is about keeping distance between himself and everyone else.

Still, talking to him on the phone each day to check in often turns into a Moritz version of “Who’s On First.” His most spoken word during our calls is “WHAT?” Suddenly, I feel in total solidarity with my dearly departed mother who was frustrated to no end by my dad’s inability to keep track of a conversation while it’s happening.

My father-in-law is a bit more challenging. The other day he said he was going to go to the store.

“What do you need?” I asked.

“I just want to look around,” he said.

“You can’t do that,” I replied. “There’s a global pandemic.”

“I drive by the store and the parking lots are FULL! Why does everyone else get to go out?” he said, slightly pouting.

“Well, they’re not supposed to go out,” I said. “And they’ll get sick. We don’t want you to get sick!”

And thus the conversation went — a COVID-19 version of the “if everyone was jumping off a bridge would you too?” discussion.

In all fairness, he hasn’t (to our knowledge) gone to the store to aimlessly walk around. He will go for walks at the nearby park. He drives over to the bank to deposit checks. Once he went on a beer run, sneaking out while I was taking a shower.

Most of the time, his actions provide comic relief. And at the end of the day, he’s doing his best as well. With a variety of underlying, pre-existing medical conditions, he’s taken a disability leave from his part-time job at Wegmans. Good for his physical health, but adding to his boredom and lack of a routine. I understand. Really I do.

So we find ways to cope together. He feeds the cats and I account for the them at the end of the day so they don’t get locked in the garage or back porch.

Then he angrily yells at the cats for eating too much and talks back to the television. I, in turn, hole up in the basement and catch up on all those shows I never finished watching, like Mad Men and Downton Abbey. (Yes, I’m finally catching up to 2012.)

We go to sleep, wake up, and do it all again.