When you look at it like that, saying something like “Thank you” feels pretty lame.
Tom, Kelly, Grant, we love you guys like family and we’re going to miss you. We thank God for you all every day, and pray that He blesses you as much as you’ve blessed us over the last six years. Thank you.
Despite agreeing that I should post more frequently, I’m going to phone this one in and post an email I sent to one of my Pratt friends during the Ozark trip the Marshalls took Josh and I on. One of the evenings–I think the day we went tubing and later the guys went wake boarding–Josh was really tired, so he went to bed early.
Grant and Destin keep asking me question about the gangs of Brooklyn. The questions have veered from easily answerable things I could have observed while there to things I could only know if I was in the gang, so I’ve started making up answers.
*”Kids” these days just assume whoever they’re talking to is doing at least one other thing on their mobile device or computer (or computer mobile device). I know that really makes some people mad, but what it indicates about how our culture is shifting with the new generation fascinates me. That’s another post, though.
Hanging out with Grant and Destin was one of my favorite memories from the Ozark trip. I was in Brooklyn while my brother was going through those walking-the-line-between-awkward-and-funny, personality-growing years, so this was my first opportunity to observe thirteen-year-old boys in the wild. I got some insight into the mind of an early teenage boy and a look into my and Kensey’s future with our sons.
I wonder what our boys will kill and eat.
Remember how, when Oak was first born, he screamed and screamed whenever you were trying to change his diaper? I miss that. Now he’s constantly trying to escape, and he’s pretty good at it. Must be the 1/16th Hitler in him.