The Kids Next Door

     Charley and I recently visited three of our five grandchildren.  Half a dozen kids came into the cul-de-sac to shoot baskets or draw with chalk on the asphalt.


     Older brother Sam admonished a younger sister for not retrieving the ball he was pitching to her.  "Jesus Christ, go get it!"
     "Where is he?" younger sister Nancy wanted to know.
     "Who?"
     "Jesus Christ.  I want to meet him when he gets the ball!"


     One of the mothers answered questions from her daughter. 
     "Mommy, how long have you been married to Daddy?"
     "For ten years."
     "Did you get me before you married him?"
     "No, I got Daddy first."
     "Did I cost a lot?"
     "Yes, and you still do!"


     One of our granddaughters pointed to the ball protruding from my right foot.  "What's that?" she said.
     "It's called a bunion.  A bone grew that way because I wore pointy shoes teaching for many years."
     "Will I get one?"
     "Not if you don't wear pointy shoes."
     "My mom wears them.  I think I'd better clean out her closet."


     Older brother Jack told his younger brother that classmate Aidan was no longer his friend.  "He said something bad about you," Jack told his brother.
     "What did he say?"
     "He said you were a sissy."
     "I'm going to kill him," younger brother said.  "But don't worry!  It won't be on school grounds."