Far be it from me to question the wisdom of my father-- but the little gift he brought back for my 7-year old Aspie from his recent travels to Ethiopia.... Well, let's just say on a scale of 1-10 of how nervous it makes me, I'm at about a 97.
LM, on the other hand, has a brand new reason to adore his utterly cool grandpa. Nothing says bonding like a humongous African blade, don'tcha know. If you'll excuse me, however, I have a very sharp weapon I'd like to go hide deep within the bowels of my basement where it will stay for, oh...the next forty years or so. Yeah, it was about the time that LM suggested we have a "knife fight" that something in me decided perhaps this wondrous new gift should be confiscated for the time being.
But LM wants to extend his heartfelt thanks before the blade is safely tucked away:
Dear Popi, I love you, love you, love you like crazy! I LOVE how you gave me that real, actual knife! And that money. And also that African doll. Goodbye!
Ah, yes-- truly we thank thee, dearest Popi. Truly indeed.
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