Today is one of those Blue Bird Days in S. Texas. The sun is bright, about 55 degrees, soft breeze, blue skies, and so enjoyable.
With Thanksgiving around the corner, and being a little nostalgic on this pre-Thanksgiving Sunday, I started thinking about my boys, and some of the things I’m so grateful for.
Little boys and sticks.
I have two of my own boys, who (when they were younger) inevitably found sticks where ever we were. They would have epic battles, glorious sword fights, and there would be noise, and dirt, and sweat, and grins, and grunts. I loved every minute. (no one lost an eye, or got more that a swat mark from these battles.)
My 4 legged boy is no different. If it isn’t a ball or frisbee, he finds a stick and wants to play.
If I don’t play immediately, the little booger will hit me in the leg with his stick until I do. His name is Rascal, and he is the pure embodiment of the term.
What is it with boys and sticks? I love boys. They are so wonderful.
I’m a grateful mom of two wonderful human sons, and one canine little boy.