It’s in the mail

StampYesterday morning, Ginny asked me to drop a birthday card in our mailbox on my way out of the house. No problem. Except that I was running late (as usual), so I dropped it on the front seat of my car, promptly forgot about it, backed out of the garage, and zoomed up the street to my office. When I arrived there, I noticed the card in my front seat and gave myself a mental facepalm.

Observant as she is beautiful, my lovely wife immediately noticed our mailbox flag wasn’t standing at attention, so she called me to inquire exactly when during the 30-foot journey from our front door to the mailbox the process had broken down. I apologized and promised her I’d drop it into our outgoing mail at work. Which, of course, I missed completely. When she called just before I left work and asked whether I’d remembered to mail the card, I assured her that I had. Except I hadn’t, which earned me another mental facepalm.

Leaving the office, I grabbed the card and placed it on the dashboard of my car, so I’d be sure to notice it. My cunning plan was to drop it at the neighborhood post office a few blocks from Logan’s school, pick him up, and dash home. Ginny would be none the wiser. Except that I was running late once again, so quickly I decided to pick up Logan first, then we proceeded to the post office. Along the way, Logan and I chatted about the post office, mailing the card, and how letters get where they’re going. We cruised through the post office, dropped the card in the mailbox, and headed home. I was all proud of myself for accomplishing an assigned errand (albeit a little late) and teaching my son a lesson about an important civil service in one fell swoop.

They say having a kid is a lot like having a pet who can tell on you. As we sat down to enjoy dinner, Logan proudly announced to Ginny, “Daddy and I went to the post office!” Busted. After an awkward silence that seemed to last forever, Ginny burst out laughing. I was so embarrassed, but thankful that seeing the humor of the situation, she’d chosen to go easy on me. Needless to say, I’d make a terrible crook.

– Greg

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