Yesterday we were about to leave home to pick up A from work. A little child was in the driveway playing on her razor scooter.
“Hi!” she said.
“Hi!” I said.
“Do you have a dad?” she asked.
I thought about it for a second. “No!” I said. “He’s dead!” She looked at me. “Do you have a dad?” I asked her.
“Yeah!” she said. “But he’s dead too!”
I looked at her. “Sorry!” I said.
Ming was turning left at an intersection when he drifted into the other left turn lane. I screamed. He almost hit another car.
Suddenly, lights and a siren went on behind us. We pulled over and the cop talked to Ming, who rolled his window down.
“You know what lane to go into, right?” he asked.
Ming tried to explain that he just made a mistake about which lane was his.
“Get outta here,” the cop said.
“Thank you,” Ming said, and we drove off.
A needed to pick up a package at the post office. He handed the paper to the worker and we stood there talking as the worker went into the back and looked for the package.
A was looking at the different rubber stamps the workers have. “Do not bend,” he read.
“Spoiled!” I read. “That’s the stamp for me!” I said. Sometimes I feel so blessed I’m spoiled. We laughed.
The worker brought our package and A signed the paper and we were leaving. “Miss? Miss?” another worker said.
Turned out he was giving me his “spoiled” stamp. “Clean it up and re-ink it,” he said. “Then you can stamp ‘Spoiled’ on your forehead.”
I laughed and laughed as we walked back to the van.