Being a grandmother of twin boy’s there’s no limit to the humor in my life.

Early one afternoon I received a phone call with a tearful “hello Grammy” on the other end. Instinctively I knew which twin it was.

“Trey what have you done?”

“Grammy you don’t want to know.”

Silence fell, then a sobbing, shuddering, “well you know that old rooster that chases Coty?”

“What about the rooster?”

“Well uncle Robert hangs him on the fence to keep him from chasing Coty so that is what I did. He was kicking when I hung him up, but when I went to let him go he was dead. I didn’t know you had to hang him by his feet. Honest Grammy I didn’t mean to hurt him.

Mommy said I had to call you and uncle Robert and tell you. Do you think God is mad at me.

“No but I would guess Mommy is.”

“Can you call her back and tell her I didn’t mean to kill the rooster, she likes you.”

And so the belief began that a mom always holds the power to tell their kids what to do.