Wilbo is an Uncle and a Father

Hello Mum;

By now, you have probably heard about I., who gave me the slip three or four times Sunday. If we ever go as a group again, I'll be putting a "Lojack" on him.

I think the kids had a better time spelunking through the hay tower tunnels before and after the show. We stopped for ice cream before the show at Grandma's, corner of Grange Hall and Dixie, where we met the previous year. I hope everything is okay with E. and A.; I picked them up two hours late and dropped them off one hour past promise time of 9:00 PM. And it wasn't an easy day with them, so I wasn't the best "non-directional, no-hassle", in loco parentis adult with them.

There's times when I can't understand I., but often he is very clear. And he's attentive to new words, which he states out loud right away. And there's no one better at picking out little details, of everything. That's going to come in handy, someday. Oh, we were driving west on the Lansing Highway into Durand, and I. declared: "Floating", which came out at first, "Floa - wing". We clarified with him: the McDonald's logo, lighted yellow and white, fifty feet up in a dark sky, does indeed float over the highway. The black pole is invisible unless you squint.

My daughter’s mother, L., filled my ears with protests about the festival as I was driving home with S. (S. is 12 years old, and the long e sound of Stevie is history). S., My daughter’s aunt, married to L’s third brother B., had attended the festival and declared it grubby and decadent, or so it seems to me. I didn't protest: A's grandmother J. had sewn a princess outfit for her two weeks prior and had reminded me about the festival twice. Yes, A. didn't have school Monday morning, so I kept her out to 10:00 PM.

After all, I had to drive two boys home to Corunna, Michigan. That violation was worth five minutes of chewing out: after all, my daughter A. isn't a teen-ager yet. Yes, but she's acting more and more mature and self-possessed every day, which could be the real issue. I didn't ask if she ever kept A. out to 10:00 PM? To her answer, "Well, yes, but I'm her mother.", I could answer, "Well, then, I'm her father."

After all this, she hit me up for money. I begged off, claiming I was driving. I asked for the request via email, so I could weigh the expense. I wonder if she cranks up my wringer, knowing that I'll shell out money easily when I feel guilty?

That's all for now, Wilbo