ok, Twohappy lane , I took your advice, but what do I do when the hubby start bit*$ing.... ? hmmm maybe I'll make a file for him too lol:
Jane & Kerri, those were really good , thanks
Now since this thread has turned kinda sensitive I'll share a good one with you.
THE WOODEN BOWL
I guarantee you will remember the tale of the Wooden Bowl tomorrow, a
week from now, a month from now, a year from now.
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four
year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was
blurred, and his step faltered.
The family ate together at the table. But the elderly grandfather's
shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his
spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the
tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do
something about Grandfather," said the son. I've had enough of his
spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.
So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There,
Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since
Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden
bowl.
When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometimes he had a
tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had
for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food.
The four year old watched it all in silence.
One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood
scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?"
Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for
you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up."
The four year old smiled and went back to work.
The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears
started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both
knew what must be done.
That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back
to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal
with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to
care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth
soiled.
Laura n.
