FACT: Husband loves him some basketball. He's not the kind of Husband who watches games on TV (ever, really) or spends lots of dollars to go to games. But he loves, loves to play. And there are days when he's still got it. I'm just saying.
Also, he's still hanging on to his thirties.
FACT: the Kids love to razz their dad about being old. Like Kid 4, who wanted to draw a picture of Dad, but couldn't, because there were no silver crayons for his hair. (So he drew him on the iPhone, making every other line for his sticky-uppy hair white. White. Every other one. Hilarious. I know.)
FACT: Yesterday was a red-letter day for Husband at 5:30 basketball. He made, in a fairly uncomplicated and totally unexpected shot-streak, nineteen points in a row. Nineteen. That's a lot of points.* It doesn't happen like that very often. In fact, he was so delighted and surprised that he mentioned it, oh, fifty or sixty times between 6:30 and 7:25 a.m.
So I tell you all that background info to present the following nugget of Wilhite Kid Hilarity:
Husband: And did I mention that I made nineteen points in a row this morning?
Kid 3 (she's 8): Wow, Dad. That's awesome. That must make you feel great. Something like that takes lots of practice, huh?
Husband: Yeah. Lots. (Sensing a teaching moment) You have to practice for the things you want.
Kid 3: Years of practice, right?
Kid 4 (he's 5): Years. Lots and lots of years.
Me: (Trying not to wet my pants laughing silently)
Kid 3: Yeah. Lots of years.
This went on and on, until eventually Husband figured out that the kids were digging at him, at which point he looked to me for support (because some people never learn) and found me gasping for air, bent over the kitchen sink with eyes streaming (but bladder firmly in control).
FACT: I love my little family.
*And if his team still lost, well, that's totally not the message here.