Mick called us on Friday to say she was nineteen weeks into her pregnancy, the baby was fine, and she was still clean. She choked up a little when she told us the baby could hear her voice now.
"What if I say the wrong thing?" she asked. "From now on, my child will be listening."
"What if I say the wrong thing?" she asked. "From now on, my child will be listening."
Miss Rella told her to relax, kids never really listen anyway. Mick laughed a little, but asked me if I'd ever said the wrong thing at a training or when I was running group. A long list of bonehead, ill-advised, mistaken, and insensitive comments came to mind. I decided repeating them served no purpose.
Instead, I said, "It's natural to worry about saying the wrong thing. I purposely try to say the right thing when I can just in case I say the wrong thing accidentally. For example, I say I love you to my family as often as I can. That way when I call Blondie's boyfriend some other boy's name, she's not quite as mad at me.
The Other Ken studied me for a moment. "You call her boyfriends the wrong name on purpose," he said. "Nothing accidental about it!"
"We're fathers with daughters," I said. "It's our job to keep boyfriends off balance."
Today I will say the right thing as often as I can,
especially if that right thing is 'I love you.'
Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose
(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)
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