Ash, Don’t Hit Dad There!


I used to work in Christian camp ministry for years in Wyoming.  I also have had the pleasure of making several friends from Sheridan, WY.  So when I walked into Qdoba in Sheridan yesterday I looked around to see if I might know someone.  The camp I worked at put me into contact with hundreds of people from that town over the years.

I took with me 1 and 3 (sometimes my wife and I refer to our kids by order of birth, there is some contention as to where 2 and 3 belong because of age vs. when they joined the family).  I have been known to on occasion act a like a boy when I am in public with my children, and this was one of those occasions.  I grabbed Asher’s arms and held them over his head while standing in line to order our food.  I then told my oldest that he should tickle his arm pits, a request that Isaac accepted immediately.  Now to Asher’s credit, he warned me that if I did that again he was going to hit me in “the guts”.  Since the line was long and I was feeling ornery I did it one more time.

When I finally let go of his arms, he turned around and landed two shots; one to the “guts” and one to the (rhythms with guts).  As I am curling over in line at Qdoba I started to hope that no one would recognize the me.


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