Thinking about my Mom this week had me thinking about a childhood poem from many years ago. It was scotched tape among her paints and brushes for years on a cork board with alot of this and more of that. Now years later it still brings a smile.

“A little boy and his Mother were crossing a River …”

Mother: “son please hold my hand.”

Son: “no Mom you hold my hand!”

Mother: ” son what’s the difference?”

Son: ” if I hold your hand and something happens to me chances are that I may let your hand go. BUT if you hold my hand I know for sure you will never let it go MOM.”



One Comment Add yours

  1. Dad says:




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