There are lots of things I love about being a father of young children. One of them just happened in our living room while I was cleaning the kitchen. Our oldest is away with Mom at a Girl Scout activity and the youngest daughter of one of the other families is here playing with our youngest.
I just listened to her (the friends’ daughter) start to sing Frosty the Snowman which, mid-way, transformed into Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and somehow ended in an amalgamated medley of the two. Listening to this incredible editing job, which I’m sure was invented on-the-fly, was priceless. I will miss this age as I miss others that have passed. Thankfully my memory isn’t what it used to be, so the loss isn’t melancholy for long. Still . . .