With God as my Witness

It was this little guy's wheeled-scooter we played around.

It was this little guy’s wheeled-scooter we played around.

I should ignore you,” informed my nephew honestly after I asked him how I sounded when I sang “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” – knowing full well that any chances of me singing in tune for once in my thirty years on this earth were as likely as the scorching sun out of the blue morphing into a gargantuan iceberg.

Smart answer from an obviously intelligent soon-to-be preschool graduate. He was on a roll, I suppose, after starting off the day in a (divine) leadership role:

I’m the new karate master,” the boy proudly announced. His confidence while making the statement revealed to me that Max clearly had no qualms whatsoever about stepping into an esteemed position brimming with responsibility.

Maxwell, his little sister Penelope & I were playing a made-up game of taking turns running circles around their baby brother’s moving seat on wheels that was designed to resemble a car. Clutching onto different karate weapons like sais, nunchucks and swords while making cool moves moving around the seat, lots of fun was had as we laughed at our antics.

“Where’s the old karate master?” I asked the fresh-faced and eager young ninja expert.

A single beat was not skipped as newly 5-year-old Max’s reply to my inquiry of the old master’s whereabouts showed me his thoughts didn’t stray far from our Ultimate Leader.

He died & goed to heaven.”

THE END

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