My Mom recently shared this little gem with me when she and my Dad were in town a couple of weeks ago. I’m not sure how it had slipped through the cracks for so long, but it’s worth sharing.
As all of you with kids know, each and every one of them is SO different from one another. This story pertains to my Emme, who is now 8 years old, and has not had a bad day in any of those 8 years. She is a smile in a bottle. Her favorite past times are looking in the mirror at herself and laughing uncontrollably, not necessarily in that order.
An important thing to know about the Emmster is that she, sometimes…..lacks….focus. She’s the kid that I ask to take up her pile of laundry and, on her way, she notices a butterfly out the window and…the moment is gone. So, I must direct her just short of cattle-prodding to get it done. Not because she’s disobedient, just because she….lacks….focus.
SO, when Mary and I were in the hospital and Mary was giving birth to Gregory, Jr. aka “Deuce”, my parents came into town to help us out with the rest of the kids. This is something they’ve done since child #2. 1) Because they love us unconditionally and 2) Because they are gluttons for punishment who make poor life choices.
On the home front, Bella, the baby at the time, is asleep. My mom has the 3 oldest girls and has assembled them on the couch because they have somehow gotten on her “last nerve.” Getting on her “last nerve” was a trick I taught them, either consciously or genetically, I’m not sure which.
So, Bonita S. Owens (‘Bonita’ means “pretty” in Spanish. If you ever meet my mother, she will inform you of this) is laying down the law to my 3 lovely daughters. After a good minute of the “talking-to”, a characteristically un-focused Emme looks around and says, “Are we having our picture taken?”
That’s My Girl!
Life Don’t Rhyme,
Greg “Manchild” Owens
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