We have a pretty steep hill in our backyard.
The other day Cole and I were sitting around hanging out together. Out of the blue, he looked at me and said, "I want to be an adult."
A few years ago, Cole started playing T-ball. Practices were Saturdays and Tuesdays.
I came home late, because Amy had given me a night to myself.
Chloe's really big into equality lately. She not into voting rights or even human rights, but her rights. Her rights to have the exact same thing of everything Cole has or receives.
Chloe went to the dentist to have her teeth cleaned. No big deal. We've done it several times before and she's always gotten good check-ups.
Chloe usually calls me "Daddy." Lately, however, for some reason she's been calling me "My Daddy."
I was doing some shopping at a local department store recently, when I heard the sound of a small child crying nearby.
A couple of months ago, I went to a local home improvement store and bought a big bag of topsoil.
Chloe and Cole have not yet learned that sound travels. Nor have they learned that whispering isn't whispering when you do it louder than a freight train.
I call it Chloe's "Story of Love."
At dinnertime one evening, Cole wasn't eating his sandwich. He did, however, make several references to dessert.
When I was a child, my father refereed basketball games. I remember two or three nights a week, he would come home wearing his black-and-white-striped shirt.
Chloe and Cole still sleep with a light on in their rooms at night.
I've shared before that I am, by nature, a saver.
They play it with towels, shirts, pants and blankets. They play it with just about anything they can get their hands on. I think that's why the dog has started hiding under the bed.
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