My wife, as a kindergarten teacher, is used to getting gifts which are collisions of youthful preferences and thankful parents. To wit:
the Christmas Cactisaurus. Wow.
At our family gathering, I asked, “So what are we doing tomorrow on Thanksgiving, Isaac?”My five year old nephew, who is going through an Indian stage (feathers not dots):
“The men are going hunting for bears, but the women have to stay here and cook. It’s the law.”
OK, then. Makes me want to beat my chest and grunt.
“So, Dad, how did your CT scan turn out?”
“Just fine. My aortic aneurism hasn’t grown at all.”
“That’s great. Just take it easy, Ok?”
“I promise. But I’ve got to go. We’re cutting and splitting wood today.”
(Inhale. No changing the man, Lord.)
#NUNS 10- 26-2013
Attended early morning chapel and prayers at the Franciscan Retreat center in Woodland Park today. Wonderful time, but I’m feeling a bit sheepish. I was kicked out of my original chair by a stern 93 year old nun.
Note to self: they have assigned seats at the convent.
“Um, Dad. What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for a newspaper. ”
“Dad, what you’re really doing is going through a garbage can at the airport.”
Come quickly now, Lord Jesus.