Ryan is in Denver for a conference until Friday, so last night it was just me, the dog, a pizza and a bottle of wine. And since you can't save wine once you open the bottle I found myself drinking just a wee bit much. And when I drink I tend to get chatty -- which is why about 8pm I found myself calling pretty much anyone who would pick up the phone.
I spoke to my mother first, who was at that moment (what luck) perusing this very blog for the first time. She had one simple question " When are you going to write about Luke?"
For those of you who are not familiar Luke is my sister's four year old son, my parents only grandchild and one of my favorite people in the world. Really, if someone asked if I wanted to have dinner with either Kissinger or Luke, I would pick Luke -- and not just because he probably drools less. The kid is freakin' hilarious. I'm not just saying that because we share the DNA or because "all kids are funny." He has a gift. See exhibit A.
Lately he hasn't really been himself though -- probably because he's too busy being everyone else. On any given day he could be his pediatrican, Dr. Bancroft, Fireman Dan, or his musical icon Dan Zanes. One thing is for certain though -- if you slip and call him Luke, he will not be very happy. See, I told you, hilarious.
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