A couple of mornings ago, we woke up, and Diana looked at me and said "Where's your pillowcase?" I looked at my pillow, and then I remembered getting out of bed in the middle of the night, pulling the case off, and putting it in the dirty-clothes-basket. BUT, I have no idea why I did it! I must have dreamed that it was dirty or something. Strange things, heh. Anybody have similar stories?
This Saturday we went to the park to have a picnic with another family and the missionaries. One of the missionaries loves lacrosse as does my little brother Bryan, so after dinner they all went to the field to play. My dad hung behind to help the other family's 4-year-old tie up his shoes on a bench. Here's what transpired:
4-year-old: How OLD are you? Dad: It's a secret, but don't you think I look like your Dad's age? 4-year-old: Yeah, except your hair is different. Dad: What color is your Dad's hair? 4-year-old: Brown Dad: And what color is my hair? 4-year-old: Gray
The women-folk still sitting at the picnic table got a good laugh out of this, as did my Dad. I think this is just another sign to my Dad that he is, indeed, aging. The first came when he hit 55 and all of his children started to tease him mercilessly about getting the senior discount at some places (which he refuses to do as a matter of pride). The other big awakening for him is that he is about to be a grandpa. When we asked him about what he wants his grandpa name to be, he refused everything from Grandpa to Pops. What name did he approve? Coach. My dad wants to be called coach by his grand kids. Let's just hope he comes to his senses by the time my baby is old enough to speak!