As far back as I can remember, my father was drunk twice.
One time was when I was eleven or twelve years old, and I wasn't in junior high school. When my father vomited in the evening, I held his forehead with my hand like an adult, and when I vomited, I helped him to be afraid that he would fall, and I greeted my father like my parents took care of me when I was sick. The next day my mother told me that your father said that you have grown up, and that with this interaction with your father, my father may no longer say that I am guilty of eating, and before that, often, sometimes angrily, sometimes with jokes.
The second time my father got drunk was on the day I got married, because his son got married, and he was very happy and drank too much. At that time, I had not yet experienced my father's happiness, and I did not fully accept my father's imperfections at that time, and I always felt that my father's speech and deeds were not very beautiful. I clearly remember that when my father was drunk, I asked him to help him untie his little hand and told him to help him up. My father didn't trust me at that time; My father was 64 and I was 28. At that time, my father was still in good health; At that time, I didn't know how to communicate well with my father.
Later, I felt that my father could accept speaking and doing things, and then the years taught me to talk to my father in teasing, and later my father trusted me more, and even relied on me a little.
When my father was drunk, he didn't talk at all, he didn't make trouble at all, and he slept quietly. I'm very much like my father in this regard.