Dinner was at my in-laws' house, and everything was quite good. Swollen bellies and drooping eyelids abounded. When it was all over, and the table had been cleared, Handsome and I retired to the back yard with gloves and ball for a little game of catch.
"Be careful," we were warned. "Don't let the ball go over that fence behind Handsome. That's the KS's yard over there, and they're the mean, Grinchy people in the neighborhood! If the ball goes over there there could be trouble."
"We'll be careful," we promised, and the catching commenced.
Back and forth the ball flew, sometimes whacking into the fence, but more often than not being caught.
Then I chanced to throw a nice fast one, right about chest high on Handsome, glove side. He snapped his glove up, but too quickly; he hadn't opened it wide yet. Rather than catching the speeding ball in the pocket of the glove, he back-handed it from below. Slapped higher, the ball hopped up about two-and-a-half more feet.
-Just high enough to clear the fence into KS territory.
I opened my mouth to say "Oh, no!", but before I got the chance Handsome was already shouting.
"Good one, Dad! Way to go!"
"What?" I said, incredulous. I hadn't thrown the ball over the fence, he had hit it -
"Way to go, Dad!" he shouted again, shooting a glance at his grandparent's house.
That's when I got it.
This day, people all over the world find things to be thankful for.
My boy was just thankful I was there to take the blame.
Talk to you later!