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My Dearest Chris & Ashley,
I've been kind of quiet for a while. Been busy working on a quilt that I hope will be finished by the time our precious little one makes his debut in less than a month. Yippee!!! We're sooo excited!!!
Anyway...I thought I would offer you a little "food for thought" as you make your way through the last lap of this race. :-)
Here is something that was given to me before you were born Chris. I love it & I think you will too. I apologize for the size of this...but please read through to the end. I think you'll find it's worth it. {{{{{{{{{{{{{{{Chris&Ashley}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
WHAT IS A BOY?
Between the innocence of babyhood and the dignity of manhood, we find a delightful creature called a boy. Boys come in assorted sizes, weights and colors, but all boys have the same creed: to enjoy every second of every day and to protest with noise (their only weapon) when their last minute is finished and the adult males pack them off to bed at night.
Boys are found everywhere…on top of, underneath of, inside of, climbing on, swinging from, running around, or jumping to. Mothers love them, little girls hate them, older sisters and brothers tolerate them, and Heaven protects them. A boy is Truth with dirt on its face, Beauty with a cut on its finger, Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair, and the Hope of the future with a frog in its Pocket.
When you are busy, a boy is an inconsiderate, bothersome, intruding jangle of noise. When you want him to make a good impression, his brain turns to jelly or else he becomes a savage, sadistic, jungle creature bent on destroying the world and himself with it.
A boy is a composite…he has the appetite of a horse, the digestion of a sword swallower, the energy of a pocket-size atomic bomb, the curiosity of a cat, the lungs of a dictator, the imagination of a Paul Bunyan, the shyness of a violet, the audacity of a steel trap, the enthusiasm of a fire-cracker, and when he makes something, he has five thumbs on each hand.
He likes ice cream, knives, saws, Christmas, comic books, the boy across the street, woods, water (in its natural habitat), large animals, Dad, trains, Saturday mornings, and fire engines. He is not much for Sunday School, company, schools, books without pictures, music lessons, neckties, barbers, girls, overcoats, adults, or bedtime.
Nobody else is so early to rise, or so late to supper. Nobody else gets so much fun out of trees, dogs, and breezes. Nobody else can cram into one pocket a rusty knife, a half-eaten apple, three feet of string, an empty Bull Durham sack, two gum drops, sex cents, a sling-shot, a chunk of unknown substance, and a genuine supersonic ring with a secret compartment.
A boy is a magical creature…you can lock him out of your workshop, but you can’t lock him out of your heart. You can get him out of your study, but you can’t get him out of your mind. Might as well give up…he is your captor, your jailer, your boss, and your master…a freckle-faced, pint-sized cat-chasing, bundle of noise. But when you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams, he can mend them like new with just two magic words…”Hi Dad”!
Author “Unknown”
LUV U! Mom...&...PROUD Grandma too. :-)
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