A couple of evenings ago, the boys and I were having dinner at my apartment. My phone happened to be sitting on the table because I had picked up a text from Debbie a few minutes before (and then carefully clicked back to the home screen). Son 1 wanted to know what time it was, so he casually reached out and picked up my phone. I was worried there might be another text from Debbie at any time, so I plucked it out of his hand.
Son 1: Hey, what’s the problem?
Son 2 [in a sarcastic deadpan]: He doesn’t want you to see all his girlfriends.
Hosea: [splutters inarticulately]
Son 1: What? You mean there’s more than one?
Son 2: Wait, what? You mean there’s even one??
Both: That can’t be! You’re fifty … and you have grey hair … and you’re flabby! You’re not allowed to have a life!
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