That Spouse o' Mine and I are enjoying having all three of our adult kids home this week!
Tonight we went to eat Japanese. Muy bien! On the drive home, college grad Claire started describing a bike ride she had taken, during which she saw a squirrel get hit by a car. I remarked that it was a sad story and that we should get on a happy track. Then that Spouse o' Mine started telling a story. I could have sworn he was telling three footy-jammed little tykes a bedtime story...until the story went on a bit:
He said, "I was out riding one day, and another cyclist was approaching. A little squirrel ran out into the road, and over into the path of the oncoming cyclist. It ran almost beneath his back tire, and I thought the little squirrel was going to get run over, but instead it missed the back tire, and as it cleared the tire, the squirrel must have grabbed the spokes, and as it did so, it was carried up around the wheel, and when it reached the apex, (NOTE: not many fathers would use the term APEX in a bedtime story, but I guarantee you, even if our kids had been 5 years old, their father would.), it jumped onto the thigh of the cyclist. It happened so suddenly I was wondering if I had actually seen this, but we were on curves, and I didn't turn around, so we will never know!"
And so the rest of our twelve-mile drive home was spent in silence, pondering the evening stars and squirrels clutching our legs on bicycle rides.
Way to make a peaceful mindset for the next bike ride through the countryside...
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