My young grandson visited me and the little woman last week.
"Grandpa," he asked me while I was reading the newspaper, "do you know how to juggle?"
"No," I answered.
"Can you paint pictures of people?"
"Nope," I replied.
"Can you fly an airplane?"
"No, why do you ask?" I said.
"I can't do any of those things, either. I must've got it from you."
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5 comments:
I can't do any of those things either--maybe we're related! (P.S.: The "verification" word I'm being asked to type in is "prawksh.")
Sunrise, sunset.
Arse Man, your verification word for this post happens to mean "the end," "the bottom," "the back section" in Old Carpathian. Love irony.
Champ, don't neglect "Dawn, dusk"--the times I myself sometimes retire to and rise from my special gargoyle coffin. My grandson--bless his devious little heart--gets a kick out of that contraption.
Interesting. Do you rise à la Count Orlok?
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