When Kenny got home from work yesterday, we planned to head to town for a bite to eat and to get groceries.
We met Kenny in the driveway. He was in great spirits. He headed into the house, claiming, “Gotta go to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be right out.” The kids and I jumped into the car and waited for him.
After fifteen minutes and multiple horn-honks, I picked up the cell phone and called the house.
“Hello?”
Trying to be as calm as possible, I asked, “Are you going to come with us or should we go without you?”
“I’ll be right out.”
Within seconds, he climbed into the car and faced forward.
Mae has not yet mastered the art of patience. Standing in the back seat of the car with her hands across her chest, she cried out, “DAD! What the HECK were you doing that whole time?!”
We were all angrily staring him down, waiting for his response, which was, “I was going Number Two.”
Darn it. You can’t be mad at that. It’s the one universal excuse that always works.
I began to pull out of the driveway. Then Kenny said, much more quietly, “And I checked the weather.”
Quieter still, “And I peeled and ate an orange.”
And barely audible, “And I completely forgot that we were going anywhere.”
At least he's honest.
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