I’m a parent.

Let’s face it, we parents can admit to thinking that our own children are top-notch. And though we may be guilty of bragging about that touchdown or that report card of straight A’s, that doesn’t mean we aren’t aware that our offspring has flaws. Like leaving the lid off the milk, saying they washed their hands when they didn’t, or tormenting their brothers when they think no one is looking.

Still, yesterday at dinner was one of those heart-melters, one for the books as they say, as we sat at a restaurant watching our boys scoop up spoonfuls of ice cream sundaes into their rarely-quiet mouths. Our oldest, who is eight, was in no hurry and eventually apologized for taking so long to finish. I told him no big thing, after all, it was giving me and Daddy a chance to talk. Soon after, my youngest announced that nature was calling, so Greg took him to the men’s room, and Griffin said…

‘Now you and I get a chance to talk. So, how’s life been?’

I wanted to giggle, but he said it with enough sincerity that I didn’t, and instead smiled at him, loving these little things that make him who he is…

My son.

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