Just Another Night With the Coxes

Jean and I were cleaning up from this evening's dinner when we heard an all-too-common voice echoing from the other side of the house. We hear this little voice repeat this same phrase 2 or 3 times a day. Here's a glimpse at Aaron in real life:



Later in the evening, our pretty young girl was sitting in my lap as the following conversation unfolded:

Jean: Look at our girl's hair. Isn't it pretty?

Bob: Almost as pretty as mine.

Rachel: No it's not, Dad. You don't have any hair.

I'm depressed. I think I'll go an have a smoke to relieve the stress.