Aye, Perception ... That's the Rub!

My youngest grandchild permitted me to walk into the waters of the Atlantic Ocean with her perched on my shoulders. It was Father's Day. Two of my six grandchildren were far away in their home .... 500 miles away from where we beach. But four were there. This littlest little girl ... the last of them, I suspect ... perceives grandpa with a degree of suspicion. Our home is still Grandma's home. Grandma's arms and Aunt J's arms are still the warmest besides her parents. Cousins? Especially her 6 year older identical twin cousins are way ahead of me on the hierarchy. How does one choose to perceive the matter.

Hell! She let me walk into the waters with her on my shoulders and shared her Dorritos with me. (For those who don't know Dorritos? They're the antithesis of healthfood. Their multiple laboratory created dyes remain on your fingers for hours after you lick those very same fingers. The little one let me bear her into the waters. It just don't get any better than that.

Father's Day was over ... the other Fathers and their families left the house in Virginia, as well. The twins travelled back North with me and M; they shared the back seat with GuntherDog ... Almost home, one of the twins needed to pee. At 9 -- I can recall it -- that urge to pee is paramount. The road stopped due to construction and volume. Just before that two crazies came screaming by going well over 90 and lacing through the lines of traffic. The skies opened ... One of those Summer downpours. We got off the road and headed towards a department store. M and her Grand-daughter ran off to the front door, coming back a few minutes later ... just about soaked to the bone.

We got back on the road and the girls, after three hours of playing with a computer tablet that their Uncle gave them, got a case of the giggles and low-level 3rd grade dirty words. GuntherDog settled in and we arrived home. Grandpa peed.

Fathers' Day don't get any better than that.

So, thanks for the offer, Anonymous, but one of the tricks of Playing in the Last Quarter is becoming your own dog. Half way home, there was a big fluff-ball Newfie sticking his/her massive head out the back window of a pick-up. So, go Anonymous (may I be so bold as to advise) and become your own dog. Get thee one of those dog smiles ... learn how to shake the rain water off your back like a long-haired Newfie or a St. Bernard and put one of those silly dog grins in your eyes ... go chase your favourite stick ... then take a nap with your favorite bone!