Thursday, July 16, 2009
A happy memory
My daughter was five years old. I know this because after she started first grade, they taught her to pronounce her "r's". I taught her to play Crazy Eights. She not only picked up the game instantly, she loved it. Unfortunately, I was a terrible mother, and the card game bored me to death. She'd ask me to play with her, and I'd usually find some excuse. Then her daddy would come home; we'd have supper, and he'd be watching TV. She'd ask him, "Would you play Cwazy Eights with me?" And he would. Oh, he'd have one eye on the television. But he never told her "no", as I recall. What a sweet man I married.