Riding in the car this evening and looking for some toys he'd brought along, Jr. said, "Daddy, where's the box with my balls in it?"
He paused for a moment and added, "That didn't sound too good, did it?"
That's my boy. Eight and a half, and already out-snarking his old man.
(I didn't have the heart to tell him that someday his wife would keep that box with her ... forever.)
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2 comments:
Quick wit on that one.
Talking with my nephew Danny Watts about hunting is becoming a challenge and an invigoration. Danny is now bow hunting and bow shooting like a fiend. So he is asking me a million questions about what "Uncle Doug" did when he was his age and what Uncle Doug would do now and does do now. Danny and I talk alot about the ethics of hunting when everyone else has gone to sleep and it's just he and I talking. He's 13 years old and has made me grow up a lot.
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