How I swell with pride when you lecture your little playground friends on the perils of judicial activism and the court ordered murder of Terri Schiavo. I wax incandescent - as only a father can - when we snuggle up to read the “National Review for Kids” together. I fairly kvelled at your boyish precocity when you told the mailman what you really think of stagnant public sector unions!
Yes my darling beloved boy....as long as you keep up the adorable scamp act, I’ll be milking your childhood for class column fodder for years to come!
your father thanks you!
***
At long last, Jeff Jacoby serves up another one of his treacly & unreadable “My Dearest Caleb” columns in today’s Sunday Globe. For those of you just tuning in, the House Reactionary at the Globe likes to occasionally turn over precious op-ed space to alleged adorable antics of his five year old son. Apparently though, the lad has been acting up lately, possibly due to the fact that Jeff and the missus went and adopted another kid last year.
Hell, that is one way to reach a proper minyon I suppose
Nonetheless, Caleb is still a holy little terror, and so rather than simply whacking the tyke across the forehead with the business end of a shovel (as Elias J. Nugator Sr. used to do with me) Jeff writes a column about it.
Someone at Morrissey Blvd, preferably someone with kids, out to tell Jeff that an indulgent and bemused column, no matter how sentimental in scope, is not a reliable disciplinary device.
I say Jeff should buy a shovel....the kid will thank him, someday.
:)
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