Hangin' Out

As those who've met him can attest, Jack isn't much of a "sitter." He's more likely to be running around (and around and around). But last evening was an exception.

Jack wanted to blow bubbles on the driveway. After a long day at work, I was happy to join in, but I grabbed a lawn chair so I didn't have to sit on the blacktop. Jack thought this was a splendid idea, got his own chair and climbed on up.

So there we sat, taking turns blowing bubbles and watching the world go by.

After a while, he said, "Daddy, talk me." He wanted to chat. So I told him about my day, asked him about his day ("Gooooooood!").

Then he pointed to some clouds in the sky -- "Look, Daddy! Clouds!"

"I see them!" I said. "They look like cotton balls."

"No Daddy -- birthday balloons!"

"Why, I think you're right -- they DO look like birthday balloons."

"No, Daddy -- basketballs!"

Then we went back to quietly taking turns blowing bubbles.

Just two dudes hanging out on the driveway, shooting the breeze. I felt a strange urge to whittle. Certainly, 20 of the most pleasant minutes I've ever spent.