LETTING GO

During the Persian Gulf War, I was assigned to go to Saudi Arabia.  As I
was saying good-bye to my family, my three-year-old son, Christopher,
was holding on to my leg and pleading with me not to leave.  "No, Daddy,
please don't go!" he kept repeating.

We were beginning to make a scene when my wife, desperate to calm him,
said, "Let Daddy go and I'll take you to get a pizza."

Immediately, Christopher loosened his death grip, stepped back and in a
calm voice said, "'Bye, Daddy."

Craig S. Kunishige in Reader's Digest

In Melbourne (Australia) one of the radio stations paid money, $100 to
$500, for people to tell their most embarrassing stories. This morning's
one netted the proud owner $300.

As the lady said...I was due later that week for an appointment with the
gynecologist, when early one morning I received a call from his office 
that I had been rescheduled for early that morning at 9:30 a.m. I had only 
just packed everyone off to work and school and it was around 8:45 
already. The trip to his office usually took about thirty five minutes, so 
I didn't have any time to spare. As most women do I'm sure, I like to take 
a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time 
I wasn't going to be able to make the full effort. So I rushed upstairs, 
threw off my dressing gown, wet the washcloth and gave myself a wash in 
"that area" in front of the sink, taking extra care to make sure that I 
was presentable. I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some 
clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment. I was in the 
waiting room only a few minutes when he called me in. Knowing the 
procedure, as I'm sure you all do, I hopped up on the table, looked over 
at the other side of the room and pretended I was in Hawaii or some other 
place a million miles away from here. I was a little surprised when he 
said, "My... we have taken a little extra effort this morning, haven't 
we?", but I didn't respond. The appointment over, I heaved a sigh of 
relief and went home. The rest of the day went as normal, some shopping, 
cleaning, the evening meal, etc. At 8:30 that evening my 18 year old 
daughter was fixing to go to a school dance, when she called down from the 
bathroom, "Mom - where's my washcloth?" I called back for her to get 
another from the cabinet. She called back, "No - I need the one that was 
here by the sink - It had all my glitter and sparkles in it".

It's great being a new mom. The only thing I worry about is
that one day the FBI will break down my door and take the
baby back to his real mother.   But I guess it's normal
for new moms to worry.