Little Miss Thing, age 5: “I like your new car. It’s cleaner than your old car.”
Me: “Maybe he didn’t have kids.”
LMT: “Are you going to wreck this one too?”
Me: “No, I want to keep it a long time. Maybe in ten years you can learn to drive using this car.”
LMT: “I already know how to drive. I can drive whenever I want.”
Me: (slow blink)
Wonderful Wife: “I’m going to start hiding our car keys.”
“Love” may be a fairy tale, but “Marriage” is spending the first half of Date Night finding a self-service car wash so you can spray the dog poop off your shoes and scrub the floor mats of the mini-van.
Home today with a pukey little one. After every retch, she cries. “I hate puking.”
Poor little thing. All I can do is rub her back.
Here I am, this giant powerful man, with money and brains… and all I can do is pat her back and assure her that she’ll feel better later.