Overheard at my house last night:
"Tell Daddy what you did at pre-school today."
"I poked da teacher..."
"...and where did you poke her?"
"In da boobie..."
At this point, things got dark, as my torso convulsed, I turned away and I covered my face with my hands to disguise the laughter that was ably muffled, but not entirely tamed. I am told that my son was instructed in no uncertain terms regarding personal space.
He is my son, that much is certain. And I love him very much.
Detail from my painting “Galletas de Mar pero no comer AKA Pieces of Eight
of Alta California” which is part of the group show which will open next
week at @subterranean_northpark Subterranean Coffee / curated by Trixie
@arthang_sandiego
-
------------------------------
Sign my Guestbook | Contact Me | Book office hours | Share
22 hours ago
No comments:
Post a Comment