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Passing Time

My husband and I both look very young for our ages. In fact, we've hardly aged a day since we first laid eyes on each other in college -- at least, that's what we tell each other. But our children have a way of bringing us crashing back to earth.

Recently, my husband and I were discussing a man who was running for public office.

"He's a Vietnam vet," commented my husband.

"What's that?" queried our young daughter.

Trying to answer the question in terms a four-year-old could readily grasp, my husband replied, "Well, honey, that means that the man fought in a war that happened when Mommy and Daddy were little."

Our daughter regarded us both thoughtfully for a moment and then asked, "So, was he a Viking?"

Sympathy and Compassion

While I sat in the reception area of my doctor's office, a woman rolled an elderly man in a wheelchair into the room.

As she went to the receptionist's desk, the man sat there, alone and silent.

Just as I was thinking I should make small talk with him, a little boy slipped off his mother's lap and walked over to the wheelchair. Placing his hand on the man's, he said, "I know how you feel. My mom makes me ride in the stroller, too."

 

Name Calling

Last year I entered the New York City Marathon. The race started and immediately I was the last of the runners. It was embarrassing.

The guy who was in front of me, second to last, was making fun of me. He said, "Hey buddy, how does it feel to be last?"

I replied: "You really want to know?"

Then I dropped out of the race.