Three Headless Statues Revisited
When our six sons exercised the annoying habit of throwing balls in the house, their father would raise his arms high above his head and loudly declare, "This house is NOT a gym!"
Unfortunately, his arms were raised all too often in frequent reminders of that standard. Until one fateful day when the boys were subdued by a single "pass" that beheaded All Three of my cherished "heritage" statues that resided on top of the piano.
Fortunately, the heads were reattached, and the ball-throwing stopped . . . at least in the living room.
But my favorite part of this tale is remembering the solemn occasion when our grown children and I were gathered in that same living room to plan the untimely funeral of their father in November, 2004. As our session drew to a close, son number five lightened our hearts by asking, "Does this mean our house is NOW a gym?"
Unfortunately, his arms were raised all too often in frequent reminders of that standard. Until one fateful day when the boys were subdued by a single "pass" that beheaded All Three of my cherished "heritage" statues that resided on top of the piano.
Fortunately, the heads were reattached, and the ball-throwing stopped . . . at least in the living room.
But my favorite part of this tale is remembering the solemn occasion when our grown children and I were gathered in that same living room to plan the untimely funeral of their father in November, 2004. As our session drew to a close, son number five lightened our hearts by asking, "Does this mean our house is NOW a gym?"
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