Dr. Noah

The other night, as bedtime was fast approaching, I found Noah on tip-toe in the bathroom, trying his hardest to reach the band aids in the medicine cabinet.
  "What's wrong, Noah? Why do you need a band aid?" I asked him, more intrigued than concerned as I had not heard any whining or crying from him, noises that almost exclusively precede the need for a band aid.
  "Daddy has a boo-boo!" Noah responded with deepest concern in his eyes.
  "Oh, all right, we'll get a band aid for Daddy's boo-boo." I said, taking one band aid from the box. I followed him into the living room where Daddy was watching the Cowboys game from the floor. He didn't look hurt. He didn't look at us. I saw no need for a band aid, but I enjoy humoring my son and I doubted one band aid would be missed.
   "Okay, Noah, where's Daddy's boo-boo?" I asked as we hovered over Stephan's head.
   "Right there!" Noah pointed to a blemish on Stephan's forehead. I laughed. Stephan became self conscious, but kindly let Noah and I place a bandage on his pimple and make it all better. Feeling mischievous, I asked Noah if there were any more boo-boos on Daddy. This was the result:

  After administering the needed care for Daddy's boo-boos, Noah saw that his work was good. Father and son then spent the rest of the evening cheering for the Cowboys.

Yes, they are both wearing The Stand shirts.

 Stephan is a very good father. And very handsome. And I Love You Forever still makes me cry when I read it.
  Be blessed, readers!