Last night, I got a call from my sister's house. Expecting it to either my sister or my brother-in-law, I answered the phone with a casual, "Hey." Silence on the other end. My parents were flying home from Hawaii at that moment, and I thought, "Oh no, the plane crashed and she can't even talk to tell me."
The following took place:
Voice on Phone: Uncle Jon!
Me: Oh, hi Garrett.
G: I'm eating marshmallows.
Me: You're eating marshmallows?
G: Yeah, we're camping. In a tent. In the living room.
You see, my brother-in-law was out of town at a men's retreat. The little man was devastated he couldn't go, so my sister set up a tent/fort in their living room and they had hot dogs and s'mores. He just wanted to call and tell me about it. And give me a mini heart attack in the process.
2 comments:
You didn't like our little joke? "Hey Garrett, call Uncle Jon and don't say anything. He'll think Grandma and Grandpa's plane crashed." Alright, not really. He just sometimes thinks forgets that he's supposed to start talking.
Well, nice to know that you would have been mildly traumatized by our plane crashing. Don't worry, I plan to be around for a very long time to tell you what you can and cannot eat in the morning!
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