As every parent of a boy can attest, digging a hole to China is a rite of passage. My son had a different rite of passage - he decided to dig his own grave. I know that sounds quite morbid - you just have to know Daniel. He's a thinker and a planner. He was just planning for the future, something to check off of his lengthy "to do" list. Let's put it this way - he's already saving his Christmas money and weekly allowance to purchase his first home, because, as he says, "I'm the boy, and the boy becomes the dad, and the dad has to pay for everything!" Smart kid!
One busy day, Daniel was outside digging his grave while I was fixing dinner, doing laundry, knocking my cats off the counter, picking rotten food off the floor, you know, the usual stuff. It was an important Cub Scout meeting night - the annual uniform inspection would occur. I was so prepared for this! The day before, I had driven to the regional Scout Shop, nearly 30 miles away, to purchase a three-dollar slide for his neckerchief. I would do anything for my little guy to get a 100% rating on his uniform inspection!
Daniel arrived home later that evening from his meeting, looked at me sheepishly, and handed me his inspection form.
"How did you do, Sport?" I asked him.
"Well, I combed my hair in time!" he said with pride.
"You had a comb?"
"I heard them talking about another boy whose hair was messy. So, I combed my hair real quick with my fingernails," Daniel said.
"Hmmm..." I said, as I took the inspection form from his hands and read the results. He had points taken off for having his shoes untied and having dirty fingernails. Digging his grave, I thought. I forgot to have him wash his hands! He combed his hair with his nasty, dirty fingernails!
"Get in the shower!" I exclaimed. "And tomorrow, start filling in your grave!"
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