While I sat in the reception area of my doctor’s office, a woman rolled an elderly man in a wheelchair into the room.
As she went to the receptionist’s desk, the man sat there, alone and silent. Just as I was thinking I should make small
talk with him, a little boy slipped off his mother’s lap and walked over to the wheelchair. Placing his hand on the man’s, he said, “I know how you feel. My Mom makes me ride in the stroller too.”
As I was nursing my baby, my cousin’s six-year-old daughter, Krissy, came into the room. Never having seen anyone breast feed before, she was intrigued and full of all kinds of questions about what I was doing. After mulling over my answers, she remarked, “My mom has some of those, but I don’t think she knows how to use them.”
Out bicycling one day with my eight-year-old granddaughter, Carolyn, I got a little wistful. “In ten years,” I said, “you’ll want to be with your friends and you won’t go walking, biking, and swimming with me like you do now.
Carolyn shrugged. “In ten years you’ll be too old to do all those things anyway.”
Working as a pediatric nurse, I had the difficult assignment of giving immunization shots to children. One day, I entered the examining room to give four-year-old Lizzie her injection.
“No, no, no!” she screamed.“Lizzie,” scolded her mother, “that’s not polite behavior.”
With that, the girl yelled even louder, “No, thank you! No, thank you! No thank you!”
On the way back from a Cub Scout meeting, my grandson innocently said to my son, “Dad, I know babies come from mommies’ tummies, but how do they get there in the first place?”
After my son hemmed and hawed awhile, my grandson finally spoke up in disgust,
“You don’t have to make up something, Dad. It’s okay if you don’t know the answer.”
Just before I was deployed to Iraq , I sat my eight-year-old son down and broke the news to him. “I’m going to be away for a long time,” I told him. “I’m going to Iraq .”
“Why?” he asked. “Don’t you know there’s a war going on over there?”
Paul Newman founded the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp for children stricken with cancer, AIDS, and blood diseases.
One afternoon, he and his wife, Joanne Woodward, stopped by to have lunch with the kids. A counselor at a nearby table, suspecting the young patients wouldn’t know Newman was a famous movie star, explained, “That’s the man who made this camp possible. Maybe you’ve seen his picture on his salad dressing bottle?” Blank stares.
“Well, you’ve probably seen his face on his lemonade carton.”
An eight-year-old girl perked up. “How long was he missing?”
God’s Problem Now!
His wife’s graveside service was just barely finished, when there was a massive clap of thunder, followed by a tremendous bolt of lightning, accompanied by even more thunder rumbling in the distance. The little, old man looked at the pastor and calmly said, “Well, she’s there.”