Let Me Be Really Clear

We were driving through western Maryland, Joel in the backseat, Paul and I up front.
Joel was singing and chatting and playing with his new wrist bands, the current fad.

He stopped rather abruptly and said, "Mom, your nose is divine."

I turned around, smiled, and said, "Divine? Thanks." (I've never liked my schnoz.)

"Wait," he said, "what does divine mean?"

"Heavenly," I answered.

"No, no. I meant defined."

"Defined? What do you mean?" I asked, now the curious one.

"Let me be really clear," he said matter-of-factly. "Your nose is long."

Little Arrows

Paul shaves every day except Saturday in a normal week. Yesterday Stephen had a noontime game on a typical Saturday. Joel, Paul, and I went to watch it.

Sitting in the bleachers, Joel was being very snuggly and Paul was returning the affection. At one point Joel rubbed his face against his daddy's rough whiskers. Immediately he jerked back.

"Ouch! What are those? Little arrows or somethin'?"

Joel then leaned over to me, rubbed his cheek against mine. "You're soft. You don't have any arrows!"