Late last night, on the way home from town, I mentioned to Shawna that my stomach was upset.
I've battled, for the past year or so, with a stomach condition that's forced me to drastically modify my eating habits. The condition is more of a nuisance than anything else-definitely not serious, but on occasion, when I eat something I shouldn't, it grumbles and complains a bit. And sometimes, when it's really angry, it "irregulates" my bowels (I can't believe I'm telling you this).
Lex, of course, being the observant, insightful, six-going-on-sixteen year old that she is, perked up. Ever eager to be of assistance she said, "Dad, you know what you need?"
"You need some of those poop raisins."
"Poop raisins?" I asked. "Do you mean PRUNES?"
"Yeah! They'd help your stomach, wouldn't they?"
It's hard, I've found, to be an effective parent to someone who prescribes you poop raisins from the back seat.
Me: "Lex, did you clean your room like your mother asked you to?"
Alexis (with a thinly veiled smirk): "Dad: never mind that. Have YOU had your poop raisins today?"
It keeps me humble.