Friday, December 02, 2005

The Scarlet Letter

I carry a scarlet letter, and carry it with defiant pride. Anyone who knows me well can see it. To the people it affects most, my family (especially my wife, my child, and pet), it is not only visible, it is glowingly obvious, almost as if it were brightly aflame.

No, it's not the "A" of adultery, sewn on my breast. My scarlet letter?


As in "Sucker". And it's stamped on my forehead. No, Really.

Little Big Dog displayed her ability to read last night when she jumped up on the couch, crawled into my lap, and began using my knee as a TV tray for her chew bar. Yes, I just sat there. Until, that is, The Feared Redhead asked me to go into the kitchen and get her something (can't remember what it was). See? She has seen it for years.

And the lad, he sees it. TFR confirmed my fears last night when she pointed out how quickly I rush to pick him up when he squawks, the way I put up with being not only a human ATM and Chef and Personal assistant, but also human furniture and playground equipment.

Yup, That's me. I am branded for life. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

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