Megan has a poncho-looking sweater that is super-cute, in a kind of
elegant, old-fashioned way. I have no idea what it's called; it looks
like a thick-knitted tablecloth with holes for appendages, although it's
smaller, like a doily, and soft. Yep, Megan looks beautiful and chic in
anything, even a tablecloth.
The outcome of board games with M and m is always good. I like to win
as much as the next guy, but I can tolerate losing to them. In fact, I
prefer it, but in the interests of mimicking life in general, once in a
while, when the cards or dice are falling my way, I
not-very-quietly-or-politely give them a drubbing, at Uno, for example,
or Trouble (nothing serious). M and m, like most kids, hate losing; they
see zero
benefit in it. That takes a few decades to pick up as a life lesson. I
want them to win every time, but I know life isn't amenable to that;
they're gonna take some lumps. So be it, learn something, use it as
fuel.
Megan brushes and fluffs and flaunts her golden hair - pretty common
among women, I'd say - twirling and splaying it in the air, like the
model in a shampoo commercial. These days, I wish I had that much hair
to tousle. Which reminds me...
Papa
Mike asked Megan, "Who has a bigger bald spot? Me or your daddy?"
Megan, bless her heart, said, "Let me see your's, Papa," and when he
leaned over and showed her, Megan concluded instantly, "Your's is way bigger, Papa! It's ginormous! You need to grow some hair, Buddy!" Good girl.
On
the way to Alanna's birthday party, Megan advised, "Dad, you don't have
to stay at this
party with me. I'm a big girl now. I don't need daddies anymore." My
heart would've shattered into a million pieces, except I'm pretty sure
she still needs me. And I really, really, really hope she always needs
me, at least a little; to listen, give a little advice, or just listen!,
give a little money, carve the holiday turkey!, show my grandkids how
to shoot a
basketball or a gun. Who knows; I just might come in handy,
occasionally, all of her life. That would be swell.
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