A couple of hours into a visit with my mother she noticed I hadn’t lit up a cigarette once. “Are you trying to kick the habit?”
“No,” I replied. “I’ve got a cold and I don’t smoke when I’m not feeling well.”
“You know,” she observed, “you’d probably live longer if you were sick more often.”
When a squirrel slipped into my house, I did the logical thing: I panicked and called my father.
"How do you get a squirrel out of a basement?" I shrieked.
Dad advised me to leave a trail of peanut butter and crackers from the basement to the outside. It worked—the squirrel ate his way out of the house. Unfortunately, he passed another squirrel eating his way in.
Even with a thousand games, dolls and crafts to choose from, my customer at the toy store still couldn’t find a thing for her grandson.
"Maybe a video or something educational?" I asked.
"No, that’s not it," she said.
We wandered the aisles until something caught her eye, a laser gun with flashing lights and 15 different high-pitched sounds.
"This is perfect," she said, beaming. "My daughter-in-law will hate it."
One evening after dinner, my five-year-old son Brian noticed that his mother had gone out. In answer to his questions, I told him, "Mommy is at a Tupperware party."
This explanation satisfied him for only a moment. Puzzled, he asked, "What’s a Tupperware party, Dad?"
I’ve always given my son honest answers, so I figured a simple explanation would be the best approach. "Well, Brian," I said, "at a Tupperware party, a bunch of ladies sit around and sell plastic bowls to each other."
Brian nodded, indicating that he understood. Then he burst into laughter. "Come on, Dad," he said. "What is it really?"