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

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 needle.

"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!


On a brutally humid day, I walked past a miniature golf course
and saw a dad following three small children from hole to hole.

"Who's winning?" I shouted.

"I am," said one kid.

"Me," said another.

"No, me," yelled the third.

Sweat dripping down his face, the dad gasped, "Their mother


On the way back from a Cub Scout meeting, my grandson asked my
son the question. "Dad, I know that babies come from mommies' tummies,
but how do they get there in the first place?" he asked innocently.

After my son hemmed and hawed awhile, my grandson finally spoke
up in disgust.

"You don't have to make something up, Dad. It's OK 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


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
that 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?"


Like all growing boys, my teenage grandson, Jermon, was
constantly hungry. I went to my refrigerator to find something he might
like to eat. After poking around a bit and moving the milk and juice
cartons, I spotted a bowl of leftover chili. "Hey, Jermon," I called
out excitedly. He came running into the kitchen.

"Look! I found some chili."

Struggling to be polite, he said, "If you're that surprised, I'm
not really sure I want it."


My last name is a mouthful, so when my three-year-old niece
learned to spell it, I was thrilled, until my cousin burst my bubble.

"You can spell Sczygelski any way you like," he pointed out.
"Who's going to know if it's wrong?