Made the kids some S.O.S. this morning (shit on a shingle – sausage gravy over eggs over toast). They loved it, and I know that somewhere out there my Dad is smiling down. Or up. I’m not judging.
Tag: LMT
Hand You’re Dealt
Little Miss Thing, age 7, walks up shuffling a deck of cards.
LMT: “Daddy, pick a card.”
Me: “Hmmm… Let me see… I’ll choose… this one.”
LMT: (shuffles cards intently for 30 seconds)
LMT: “Sorry, you lose.” (walks away)
Me: …
Old Fashioned
Me: “Hey! Why are all these clothes thrown everywhere?”
Little Miss Thing, age 7: “We’re doing a fashion show.”
Me: “Who is WE, exactly?”
(dog walks out of closet, tail wagging, with a bathrobe belt tied around her middle and a bonnet on her head)
LMT: “Me and Sif. I made her beautiful.”
Me: “She was already beautiful. Are you sure she’s having fun?”
(dog wags tail and isn’t trying to leave)
LMT: “She loves her outfit. It’s French.”
Me: “Well, French or not, at least untie that belt and…”
LMT: “No!”
(long pause)
LMT: “Daddy, I don’t think you understand Fashion.”
Me: …
Me: “OK. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
Very Vocal Viking 