Sunday, October 25, 2009


The lads were chomping at the bit to play outside this cool morning after Mass.  Too anxious to get out there to eat anything (they *had* eaten before church), they donned some autumnal attire suitable for pushing trucks and such around the yard (including a colorful array of hats and hand coverings) and went out.  My beloved and I stayed inside at the kitchen table overlooking the yard with our breakfast casserole and the wee lass, and set some breakfast cookies out on the porch for the lads.  Then this scene unfolded...

Elder lad (at the window cracked open to allow two-way communication beyond banging and gesturing): "Good morning, sir.  May I take your order?"

My beloved: "yes.  Coffee, please."

Elder lad: "OK.  Grande decaf mocha?"

My beloved: "I think that's what your mother would order."

Elder lad goes off, retrieves a cup full of dirt, reappears and says, "OK.  That'll be five dollars."

Where does he come up with this stuff?

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