Valentine

The boys experienced the joys of yet another holiday. Candy entered the household once again. Once candy enters this household, all members seemed to go a bit crazy. The boys become deceptive, conniving gluttons. My lady becomes the Gestapo. I become the lone voice of hedonism. "Indulge!" is what I say. It's a holiday, after all. Time to take a holiday from your convictions, morals, and inhibitions.

In an effort to break up a fight, I explained to Leon that Valentines day is about loving everyone all day. "That's why people are giving you candy! They are loving you today. So you have to love everyone today, too." Later he came up and hugged me, "I'm loving you soooo much, so you will give me candy."

I got the boys a box of Sweetart hearts and gave them full responsibility of the entire box. I warned them of getting sick if they just swallowed the whole box, and I told them it would be best to save some for tomorrow. But who listens to Dad? This morning there isn't a single Sweetart in the house, of course. Leon polished off the last few right before bedtime and joyfully announced, "I'm going to be SICK tonight!"

Silas would soak a heart in his mouth for a minute and then put it back in the box. He shared about half of the box with Beth and me. I admit I had a few soggy ones. He had his finished of by bedtime too. No lessons were learned this holiday. Unless maybe that Dad doesn't know what the heck he's talking about.

Overheard

I was standing in line during my morning Bojangles run today when this 60-something woman ran up to the cashier and asked in the thickest southern accent, "Honey, ask Jessie what they call the color of her car."

"Mango Tango!" Jessie hollered from back in biscuit central.

I grabbed my bacon, egg, cheese, and tea and followed the woman back out to her group of friends in the dining room. There are about 15 of these retirees that take over half of Bojangles every morning. Coffees and newspapers are spread around the tables all pulled together. They've got it made. I hope to  join them eventually. They were apparently waiting for the color of this car. She announced, "It's MANGO TANGO!"

Before I headed out I heard her best explanation of the color. It couldn't have be more wrong: "It must be a mix of mandarin orange and tangos."

Think about it.

"I would challenge anyone here to think of a question for which we once had a scientific answer, however inadequate, but for which now the best answer is a religious one." - Sam Harris