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At times, words fail me.

I wish I had a picture.

Actually…

No.

No I don’t.

The boys were… Let’s just say restless in church.

Yeah, that’s it. Restless.

We were all tired, and Sunday is a day when no one is forced to cook. We went to a local Italian Restaurant (which was really good).

How do I explain?

What words do I use?

Here’s the picture (in words).

The 2 year old is beside me, the 5 year old (and mom) is across the table.

I’m wearing a very nice shirt/tie/sweater-vest combo with slacks.

The two year old, steadies himself using my leg as a brace.  The one area that isn’t covered by a napkin.

Pizza hands.

Some how, some salad dressing (wife shared with 2 yr old) ends up on my shirt.  Still not sure how that happened.

Then, my wonderful child decides to “hug” dad’s arm, and give it kisses…

Yes, Pizza hands and kisses… 

On my really nice shirt… and slacks.

I’ve learned, when you sit beside the child; you’re just as likely to wear his lunch as he is himself.

I’ll label this as “Things they didn’t teach you…in life.”

Tim

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