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Tuesday, June 23, 2009

A Boy After My Own Heart

When we go out to the park, Angel Boy really loves to have fun. We throw tons of rocks and make huge splashes. If this involves getting muddy, so be it.

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He doesn't enjoy when his hands are dirty. He insists on rinsing his hands in the water every. single. time.

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But seriously, every time we go to the park I hear the same thing. "Grandpa?" Okay fine, I'll call Grandpa. So then Grandpa is on board and we schedule a meeting and we are on our way. Not even out of the car yet, AB starts up again. "Grandpa!!! Throw rocks?!" Of course, Angel, we are going to throw rocks.

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This is problematic, though. Left on his own, Angel can find plenty of well deserving rocks to throw, no issue. With Grandpa at his side he miraculously loses rock vision and needs Grandpa to find them all for him. And there are standards, people. Standards, I tell you. A Grandpa chosen rock must be large. The larger the better. The bigger splash, the better.

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Grandpa does try to take pictures. He loves photography but Angel doesn't really tolerate that when it is time to throw rocks.

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Eventually Grandpa will come around. He always does. He likes throwing rocks just as much, if not more than the boy.

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So the story goes. Eventually I must remind the boys that I do have to wash the clothes Angel has covered in mud and that if he wants a little time on the playground, the rock stint is up. Reluctantly, he will oblige, but he will not go happily.

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I leave you with this. Never allow your boys to throw rocks. Anywhere. You will never get your park time back again. I'm sorry. Don't say I didn't warn you.

This point will sink in and hit home as the months pass, you'll see. I promise.

And I also leave you with this. Spring is my favorite time of year, for sure. I love the new growth, the colors breaking the grey of winter. Fresh smells and warm sun...

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