Life is Fragile

(front door opens)

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “Dad, I found something walking home from the bus today.”

Me: “Yes, what’s that dear?”

LMT: “I found this.” (shoves leaf-wrapped and very dead mouse within inches of my face)

Me: “Oh my…”

LMT: “It was on the front porch. Last week we found a dead bird.”

Me: “Yeah, things die. We only live for a while, and animals live even shorter lives.”

LMT: (heavy sigh)

LMT: “We buried the bird in the yard, so I’m going to go bury the mouse, too.”

Me: “OK. If that’s what you want.”

LMT: “I think that’s what she would want.”

LMT: (walks out somberly)

Me: (to myself) “It doesn’t get any easier, kiddo.”

Hammer Time

Little Miss Thing, age 6: “Can you help me find a hammer?”

Me: “Sure, honey. Where did you last see it?”

LMT: “In the back yard.”

Me: “Can you be more speciific?”

LMT: “Behind the woodpile.”

Me: “Behind the woodpile is just a giant mess of thorns and 7 foot weeds. How did a hammer get back there?”

LMT: “I threw it.”

Me: “And you want me to help you find it, after you threw it into the weeds.”

LMT: “Yes.”

Me: “What does the hammer look like?”

LMT: “Green.”

Me: “Of course it is.”

Rural Royalty

My Oldest Daughter, 12: “Why is that store called Rural King?”

Wonderful Wife: “Because they sell the things that people buy when they live out in the country.”

MOG: “What, like harmonicas and cowboy boots?”

Me: “Yes. Harmonicas and cowboy boots. Also lassos and banjos.”