Saturday, we were at a memorial service for the missus’s great uncle Oliver. It was a very nice service and well attended; he was 95 years old and I don’t think there was a bad thing to say about the man.
About three or four minutes after the memorial service started, the boy inched closer and asked to be picked up. The service was out doors and under a canopy but it was quite cold and the boy had declined a sweater. So, I reached down, picked him up and stood back up.
And smacked my head on the back of the canopy, causing it to ring like a bell.
Half the people turned to look at me while I was holding the back of my head, trying to dampen the internal ringing and not laugh at myself. Fortunately, most were smiling and the boy was able to hold still for quite a while until we had to go to the van to have a chat about what is appropriate and what is not appropriate at a funeral or memorial.
We miss you Oliver.
