Sandwiches

"...that's why I wanted you to get out on my side of the car," I said, stepping out of the van, narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle while I was busy avoiding a puddle in the dark.

Okay, so he was right to get out on his side.

"But I jumped over the water," Logan protested.

It's true, I saw him spring over the river of water along the curb and into the ankle-high grass, but I was not to be outdone.

"Yeah, but then you wandered through the wet grass you knucklehead."

It was the only thing I could think of without having to put a quarter in the Naughty Jar.  We were on our way into the church for Cub Scouts.

"You want a sandwich of pain?" he offered, brandishing a fist in my direction and neatly stepping into a Juniper bush.

I stifled a laugh.

"You mean a knuckle sandwich?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah!" he shouted, with a note of gratitude, liberating himself from the bush, "Of pain!" he added, lest I forget.

- 9 November 2015