Perhaps only my siblings and Mom will really get this post, but growing up, my Dad always had stories or sayings he would tell us. I've learned from his former students, that he wasn't much different at school, he had his 'Monk Stories' which I wish he would put to paper.
At home, we learned what two bits was, what a stereoscope is, and what you do with a mouth organ. We learned to never stick your finger in the finger trap. We learned when you're really hungry, you should sing a little ditty.
I'm as hungry as a hog, I could eat fried rice, seaweed, or a dirty hot dog.We learned about the naughty little boy that painted the fire engine black, although, I'm pretty sure at different times it was a naughty little girl and even a naughty little bunny once.
My dad hasn't changed, he still tells his stories and it actually makes me happy that my kids are now learning the craziness that is their grandfather. Today I witnessed a prime example.
Camdyn was outside on her swing set when an airplane flew by. Several seconds later I heard her yelling something I myself yelled to airplanes as a child, thanks to dear old Dad.
Send me down a candy bar! Send me down a candy bar! Send me down a candy bar!Thank you, Dad, for your quirkiness, for your stories, for being able to embarrass Mom every time you go to the grocery store together.
The night was dark, the night was blue. Around the corner, a shit wagon flew.It hit a bump, a scream was heard.A man was killed by a flying turd.
Olivia, Riley, and Camdyn with her usual wonderful smile.
Weeeeee!!
