(photo credit: Face the Music by J.D. Hancock on flickr.com. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/legalcode.)
The weather is perfect: sun, breeze, about 70 degrees. The choices for my day are endless.
Which is why I’m at the Home Depot. Indoors. Among paint chips and toilet seats.
Obviously, I know how to have fun.
My husband is searching for something and I’m standing alone with the cart when a little boy, maybe three or four, kind of gallops in my direction, holding onto his mother’s hand loosely. She’s talking to him and he’s joyfully responding, his eyes wide open, taking in every single person (there are lots of them) and every single thing (so. much. stuff.)
As they are about to pass me, the boy looks up at me, pulls on his mother’s arm and stops dead in front of me. I look down at him, and he breaks into a huge smile and says in a sing-song voice, “We can’t find my daddy anywhere.”
Then he pulls his mother along and gallops off.
End of story.
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