About an hour and a half before dinner, his mother asked: "David, did you remember to take out the dog?"
Then we sit down for dinner. We say grace. I take a bite, swallow, and then proceed to read the Walther devotion for the day to the family - an outstanding devotion, I must say.
But as I had read about two paragraphs, I become aware that David has suddenly tensed up. I figure whatever it is can wait. But Cindi stops me: "I think we need to stop for a minute."
The look on David's face is priceless. It's as though Lucy knew that HE were the one who was supposed to take her out. So she peed. All over his foot. And it wasn't just a little bit either.
He is indignant and we are all dying laughing. "I asked you if you took her out," Cindi said. David, with that utterly hoplessly lost little boy look on his face said: "But I didn't know you were TELLING me to take her out." Right. Mom just wanted information for her own health, eh?
Anyway, David cleaned up her "gift", took Lucy out, and we finished the Walther - except I kept cracking up as I thought about it all. Mea culpa.