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Parenting Win?

Before you read this story, let me be clear on a couple of things which should be obvious for anyone who knows my family.


  • Sarcasm is a love language.
  • Sympathy is not in abundant supply around here.
A few nights ago, I was sharing some wishes with my children for my funeral. I told them I wanted a closed casket, but at the end I wanted the organist to start playing 'Pop Goes the Weasel'. Then I wanted them to look at the faces of everybody as they sat and watched the casket. (Yes, I saw this joke on Facebook.) 

My kids responded that it was as good as done. They even had an idea for a lever that could make the casket open at the appropriate time. 

Fast forward to the weekend, where I was dutifully mowing the lawn. Some bees, which must be straight out of the pits of hell, came out of the ground and stung me in both my ankles and my pinky finger. 

I left the mower behind, and with much anguish, called out to my wife, who quickly made a paste to take the sting out. (I assure you this is the only bright spot of this story.) 

As I cringed, I told my loving wife, who has given birth to my 3 beautiful children, that she has never felt such pain as what I was currently feeling. Knowing she would pull the labor-and-delivery card, I said this was like "giving birth through my finger". That's right! I said it!!

I also indicated to my wife that I thought this might be the end for me. I might die. That's when one of my aforementioned beautiful children (the 9-year old) came out and said, "Well Mom, at least if Dad dies, we can do that thing with the casket." 

My finger still hurts, but at least my children are growing up funny. 
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