Last night we were celebrating my grandson’s 23rd birthday and reminiscing a little – much to his embarrassment. I reminded him of the time that my dog “Molly” was run over and my son lovingly buried her in the garden inside a recycle bag to prevent Molly’s mother, who often visited with my daughter, from digging her up.
A few weeks later, five year old grandson rang and asked where Molly was. I took a deep breath and proceeded gently to tell him what had happened. He brushed my explanation away and stated that his uncle had put Molly in a recycle bag and she should be back by now. His comment last night was – “Well I was only five and it seemed logical at the time!”