How I Learned to Be More Flexible

When my son Clayton was 14, he took violin lessons. My husband, Phil, would take him, wait for the thirty minutes, and then the guys would drive through McDonald’s and arrive home with french fries in hand. But, one Thursday, they were a whole hour late! I checked the time and started to get concerned. Then, I heard the garage door.

I was at the other end of the house in my youngest son’s room, so I could barely hear them as they came in – muffled voices and trailing footsteps were all I could detect. I expected them to come down the hall toward Connor's room, but they didn't.

Instead, I heard their bulky procession lumbering down our stairs into the basement.

"What are they doing?" I wondered. "It's not like them to not say hello."

Finally, my curiosity catapulted me downstairs and I blurted out as I entered the basement, "What are you guys up to?"

"Uh, um, Honey, I bought a recliner." Phil announced.

"You did?!?"

I was shocked!

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