Overheard: One for Each Kid

The other night I taught the 12 year old Boy Scouts about Personal Fitness for the second week in a row. They are good kids, but it's such an eye opening experience working with them. It's hard to believe that a rather short time ago I was one of these rowdy, immature and sometimes weird young men.
Afterward, I was talking with Rachel about it and came to the conclusion that if our kids were weird and immature it would be because of their weird dad and certainly not their mother. Shortly after I caught myself once again being my weirdo self (I think I was referring to Olive by her new nickname, Goos Mung Wong Shin Tsao Li) and exclaimed: "No! My kids are going to be weird!"
A few minutes later, a teary-eyed Hannah was walking toward our room.

Me: What's wrong Hannah?
Hannah (in the verge of a breakdown): I don't wanna be weird.

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Olive, running naked after a bath: I coldie! I coldie!

Happens almost every bath.

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I took Heber with me to play basketball Saturday morning at the church. We got there a little early so I started teaching him how to play defense. Later, I started playing ball and Heber kept calling for me from the sidelines to tell me something. I kept telling him to wait until we were done, thinking he was just being a needy little kid. Finally it got to be too much and I asked the guys if they could stop while I addressed Heber's concern. He quietly reprimanded my defense:

Heber: Dad you're not blocking them.

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