“I’ve decided what I want on my gravestone when I die,” #2son says, as a dribble of ice cream rolls down his chin.
“It’s tombstone,” I say distractedly.
“Whatever,” he says.
(Actually he’s right. Gravestone and tombstone are interchangeable. I’m just used to hearing tombstone.)
“Don’t you want to know what I want to put on my tombstone?” he asks, with a gleam in his eye.
“Of course,” I sigh.
“Don’t eat too much ice cream. I learned THAT the hard way!”
Ahhh. From my sweet little ice cream lover. He cracks me up.
Happy National Ice Cream Month!
But remember: Everything in moderation!
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