My dad is such a boy.
You know why? I will tell you.
Today, I was helping him in the backyard. The last thing we did was go "gopher hunting." I thought it was kind of funny that Dad seemed to actually look forward to it a bit. He even referred to the two of us as "hunters." I was struggling, with my love of all humanity, that we were going to be killing some poor small animal. But, I guess in the interest of beautiful backyards and gardens that actually live to bear fruit, the gophers have to go.
Then, as we were finishing up the last hole, I was making some dirt clumps to stick down inside. Dad put something in my hand without warning. I looked down, thinking it was going to be dirt to add to my growing supply. I think I even said, "oh, thanks." What did I actually thank him for? A live worm. In my hand.
Dad may be 73 years old, but that man still knows how to gross out a girl like he is in the school yard. What a Boy.
