Fiona keeps telling us she wants to go climb a tree. The odd thing is, we can't find any good climbing trees around here. Apple trees would be perfect. Most citrus trees are great ('cept for the thorns) but just about all we have around here are maples. The mulberry tree in the front yard might be good, but the lowest branch is six feet off the ground. Not so good for someone in the three-foot-something range.
Fortunately, that's what uncles are for. (Daddies aren't off the hook, not by a long shot. But when having your head sat on is a daily phenomenon, you sometimes forget to inject some creativity into the situation.) So the impression has stuck: Uncle = Jungle Gym.
Personally, I think Paul brings that on himself...
1 comment:
I hope Paul (or anyone who imitates him) doesn't whap his head on that step.
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