Meet Your Grandparents! (Clark Edition)

This weekend, your father and I drove out to the 'burbs to visit your grandparents, who kindly still feed us when we knock on their door. Hopefully, we will time your births exactly right, so that just as they're beginning to get absolutely sick to death of us, we will announce that we have made adorable new people who are currently living inside one of our bodies (we won't bore them with all the details) and whom they may play with, but only on the condition that they continue to feed us all when we knock on their door. Whenever we knock on their door.

Anyway, the main difference between your grandparents and your parents is that they have what are considered "useful" professions, and we are what is considered "freelance bloggers."

Your grandfather Bill, for example, is a preacher. While we were visiting, I sneezed and he said "Bless you," and you know what, children? It actually meant something.










And your grandmother Laurie, who is a doctor, examined your father's ears because they hurt, and diagnosed the problem with no difficulties*.

So let me apologize in advance for the day you and your spouses come to visit your dad and me in our suburban house and the most help I can offer you is to suggest you try shuffling your syntax so you have more trochees and fewer dactyls or perhaps a nice slant rhyme here and there or maybe an allusion to Greek mythology or two.

...I'm such a waste of space.

*Obviously, I can't repeat the problem here, because it would violate doctor-patient privilege AND spousal privilege, which I know about from Law & Order shows and because your father went to law school.