So I went over to the local bowling lanes yesterday to get some practice in before the Pro-Am. Since Kathleen was at a get-together in the city, I brought Caroline along. I was in a lane next to a senior citizen couple, and as I unloaded my bowling equipment onto the rack, the fellow turns to me, looks at Caroline, smiles and says, “Is she here to help grandpa bowl?”
“I’m her father,” I said.
He looked at me as if I hadn’t understood what he was saying. “Her grandfather?”
“No,” and my voice turned to ice. “Her father.”
“Oh.” Pause. “Really?”
“YES!”
I dunno. Maybe I should start dying my hair…or at least what’s left of it…
PAD
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