So, it’s the first Family Home Evening with my husband as a former bishop. You wouldn’t think it was any different than previous Family Home Evenings as even when he was bishop we had them. They were a “free” night. But somehow this felt different. Lighter, easier and we were enjoying ourselves. We needed to run a quick errand to a local hardware store for some sand paper for our grandson to work on his pinewood derby car.
Paul took us directly to the sandpaper section but we couldn’t find a “variety pack”. So a nice young employee offered to help us look. Fortunately he couldn’t find what we were looking for in that section (I say “fortunately” because there have been times I’ve been looking for something, ask for help and it has been right in front of me all the time—I hate that!) So we follow him off to another section of the store.
He passes another young man, also an employee, and fakes a jab to his stomach.
The young man dips his head and Paul replies “Oh, was I supposed to hit him? A nice jab to the jaw?”
Our helper responds “yes!”
Paul laments, “Oh, I’m getting old, I missed my opportunity, but, hey, Diane, you could have followed up!”
I responded “I know, but every time I hit them they cry!”
1 comment:
Truer words were never spoken. The store helper laughed out loud at the thought. Little does he know.
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