Breech of peace, harassment, vandalism, invasion of privacy, disorderly conduct…the list of charges go on and on. Unfortunately, being married to a police officer doesn’t do a bit of good when the perpetrator is two and a half.
This morning I found Tyler staring out the window, mystified. “It snowed last night,” he whispered, “just like Daddy said it would!” I turned to Doug and waited for his explanation of the science of meteorology, but instead he stood there looking like Nostradamus. I wonder if he’ll feel betrayed when he learns the real master of the universe is Scot Haney?
Yesterday I pondered how a two-week-old event could be called historic, and it occurred to me that the Catholic Church is far more logical. Even the Vatican makes sure people are dead for a hundred years before letting them be saints. In addition, saint candidates must perform two miracles—one while they’re living, and the other after they’re dead. I just completed my first miracle—using the words “logical” and “Catholic Church” in the same sentence. After that, the second one should be a breeze.