War. Games.

There was a vehicle accident in Afghanistan that involved Canadian soldiers. My brother is a Canadian soldier, a senior officer in the Royal Canadian Regiment. He was sent over there to lead the investigation in to the accident. Three days ago, a suicide bomber drove into a convoy. My sister-in-law received a call from my brother that basically went like this:

Bro: You're going to be hearing something on the news and I wanted to tell you I'm okay.

Sis: Is everyone on the team okay?

Bro: Yes.

Sis: Is everyone else okay?

Bro: I'm not on a secure line.

Turns out the attack killed a Canadian diplomat and seriously, gravely injured three Canadian soldiers.

That night the Boy and I said a special God Bless for his uncle so that he'd be safe. I explained that my brother, who we call Unca Jokes,  was over there in a war and that he was trying to keep other people safe so that the war would get over and there'd be peace.

This morning, waiting at the bus stop for the overdue schoolbus, out of the clear blue (which is the way these things usually happen), the Boy asks:

Boy: Is Unca Jokes still alive in the war?

Me: Yes he is.

Boy: Does he still have all his health?

Supper's Cold

Supper time at our house tends to lack some necessary degree of discipline. Often it's catch-as-catch-can when Mommy is away at work and Daddy is trying to get everything ready for him and the Boy. Combine that and the TV that's always turned on and what you get is a Boy who rarely is sitting properly in his chair eating his supper.

Last night, lo and behold, the three of us were at the table at the same time. It didn't start that way; Mamma had the early shift at work and so I didn't get home until after 5:30, walking in the front door to see everyone else already at the table. Within a few minutes I had my supper in front of me and was sitting down to eat. Moments after that, the Boy was out of his chair, maneuvering into mine, actually to sit on my lap.

Me: Go back and sit in your own chair now, while Daddy eats his supper.

Boy: I'm cold and I want to cuddle.

Me: Well, if you're cold, why don't you go and put on a sweater?

Boy: Cuddles are better than sweaters.

Big Daddy

My workout regime is into Week Four and I'm studying the mirror for signs of progress. The Boy and I will be sharing the shower since it was a workout day and I'm still sweaty from the gym. The Boy gets me to show "pulling up buckets" so that we can compare muscles. I flex and suck my stomach in. He gets me to do one "with my belly out", so I relax and let the gut droop. The six pack reverts to a kegger.

Boy: Now you look like Mr. Incredible!