BYE, Booger

Dear Boogs--

Sorry I got something caught in my throat when I was talking to you on the phone...it must have been the chicken biscuit....


I will call you later because I know you are busy on MOVING DAY......

When you were born they threw your goo-covered butt in the warmer thing at the hospital--you were squawling to beat all getout. I went over to where you were and held your tiny little hand--you latched onto my pinky finger and held on--in just a few seconds you stopped crying and the new parents had a daughter....

I was hooked from that moment on---proud as I have ever been---as was your Mom---and as a result you "might" have been a little bit spoiled...

So for the last 20 years or so you have been right there with us, thru thick and thin..good times, bad times, and lots of just regular times.

The Boogs was there.

Along came Joe, then Winnie..... The tank of tropical fish, the cats, and everything else---and the Boogs was still there...

Then there was the Pottamus--not exactly the best timing in the world, but inasmuch you do things your own way, it all worked out--Mom and God both knew this and as usual I was the last one to figure it out-- but I did. (I'm not as big a heathen as folks think, Boograh...)


And Boogs, like the Flag, like the mortgage, and like the everlasting pile of laundry--- was still there.

And you were there with our Pottamus, who is just as much ours as any of you kids, even if he is a GRAND.... And there's a reason they are called a Grandchild I guess because he has been just that...he has a window into my soul and I'm powerless in his clutch.


Your Mom loves her babies---all of them--unconditionally. That means no matter what. (I do too, but you kids aren't supposed to know it)...


AND That means---while no matter that her babies are 20 years old and has babies of her own, and moving away, and regardless that there are still two other kids , three dogs, and yet another round of trips to the orthodontist and teenaged drivers pending to break our butts and our bank account---but that is our Boogs and our Pottamus won't be there.....and that, Dear Boogs, is what makes things get caught in ones throat.


And that's why Mom and I wish we had a pinky finger to latch on to right now.


Love,
Daddy