Home, sweet, home

Within ten minutes of arriving at my parents' house in Moscow, I overheard the following conversation: Dad (on the phone with Mom's brother): Hey, if you don't have plans for Friday, want to go out for lunch with me and Donny? Donny's paying. It's my birthday. (pause) Yeah, see if your father wants to come too. (pause) That sounds great. See you then. This was the first that I had heard of these plans.