I chase these days with words, both arms waving, but they never turn around to see me scrambling after them. And I never catch up.
Just this morning, Dani said something terribly cute, and I can't remember it for the life of me. I do remember what it was Caed said at the same breakfast table. He asked me in between bites of strawberries if I could tell he was praying to God.
"Oh you are?" I said.
"Yes, and I asked Him if he really made everyone--like all the people--special."
"Did he answer you?"
"Uh huh. He said yes. I also asked him if he had a wife."
"He said no. But I'm not sure on this one. Why doesn't God have a wife?"
Well you see, son, God in is infinite wisdom....
No, on second thought, I think I'll let Jack Handey answer that one.
Every day this week I've intended to write, and every day this week, I've encountered something along the lines of this:
And so I bathe the dog instead of writing the blog. Priorities.
But I can't blame it completely on the dog. We might have had one or twenty other things going on this week.
And though I probably can't make a
Though I can't catch up to chronicle the racing days,
though they've lapped me a dozen times over,
Because I'm pretty sure I still won.