Note to self:  Change phonebook names around so Drama Queen and Mr. Smiff’s names aren’t right next to each other so you don’t accidentally send your teenaged daughter text messages meant for Daddy’s eyes only. 

Now that Mr. Smiff is a text messaging machine, we’re finding that texting is a fun way for the old folks to flirt and be nawtee.  Actually, I wasn’t being naughty in this message, but, it sounded like it. 

The last couple nights, Mr. Smiff has been continuing the bonding with our boys over Family Guy.  I wish he’d bond with them over old Andy Griffith episodes, myself, but, we’re weird that way.  I told Mr. Smiff to come back and watch tv with me and he said he would, but, he di-int.  So, I was attempting to text him today that I wanted him to come hang out with Mama a little bit.  It wasn’t nasty or nothing, but, had I ever seen something like that betwixt my parents when I was 13, I would have just flat out died.  I don’t think my parents ever actually did that though.  At least not after I was born. 

Funny now, I watch old home movies and have some cards my parents gave each other on birthdays and stuff and I can tell by the looks my dad would give my mom as she was filming that he was hawt for her and by their cards, especially a note I have that he left her by the coffeepot (her trusty, Corningware pot, remember those?) in 1971 telling her to have a good day and that he loved her.  How sweet is that?

Now, my Shishter walked in her Preacher Daddy and Mama one time when she was grown.  That would be traumatizing.  In fact, I don’t think she’s over it yet.

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