A perfect ten
It’s a cold world out there these days: as one of my sportscasting pals says, the current temperatures are colder than a gravedigger’s (posterior). It’s also a cold world in the broadcasting business, but I’ve got to keep on truckin’ even when the deck seems stacked against me from a job perspective.
However, it is a warm and fuzzy world when it comes to how much I enjoy spending time with our daughter. She is two now and getting more fun every day. She’s also getting smarter, which is getting dicey because daddy-o is getting nervous because she’s getting more and more of what I say that used to outfox her. Get it?
She turned two on a recent Monday, and counted to ten a few days later. I’m not saying that I should get her an application to Oxford, but I was impressed. The girl counted to ten! I don’t think my favorite team winning a championship would have me grinning as much as when she got from one to ten in a few seconds flat.
I received some job news recently that was a bit of a downer, but I was feeding our daughter dinner pasta at the time and she was happy as a clam…or clam sauce. Whichever it was, it was hard to be too torn up about the news. When my phone call ended, our daughter wanted to read books with us. I got two great reminders about priorities and it was a two-year-old who did the teaching.
I love the old episodes of M*A*S*H*, the ones with Trapper and Henry. My favorite line from those early shows is a scene where villain Frank Burns tells a patient he’s going to count to three and expects the patient to give up his teddy bear or something before he gets to the final number. Frank begins the count.
“One, two….”
Hawkeye stumbles upon the scene and says, “Showing off again, Frank?” Priceless.
To think our daughter’s already five times more advanced than Frank Burns as she teaches me perspective.
