The Giving Car
I want to go to the park, said the Boy.
Tell your Dad, and I’ll bet he’ll drive you to the park, said the Car.
And the Boy told his Dad, who loaded him in the Car with a nice picnic lunch, and drove them to the park.
I want to go to the park, said the Boy.
Tell your Dad, and I’ll bet he’ll drive you to the park, said the Car.
And the Boy told his Dad, who loaded him in the Car with a nice picnic lunch, and drove them to the park.
“Daddy, this is such a wonderful place to live, I’m surprised President Obama doesn’t have a house here! I bet if he did, he could afford to have a basement.” I had to explain that even the President doesn’t get a house with a basement on the beach.
In my entire 42 years on this planet, I have never seen someone blow the damn candles out on their cake before the song was over. It didn’t occur to me that you could do that. I just would never have thought of it. We’ll never get through another birthday without laughing like loons. “Screw the Song!” just became the cake-hungry rallying cry of the rest of my kids.
It’s shaping up to be a good week all around. Today is Monday, and 5 out 6 of my needs on Maslow’s hierarchy have been met – and it’s not even 0730.
Driving home the other day, we passed a sign reminding us all to call your dad for Father’s Day. The Reigning Queen of Pink was *very* cheerful about this idea. “Yay! I’ll call Daddy for Father’s Day! What kind of cell phone are you buying me?”