Friday night, we went on a picnic to Owen Park. [you can click the above photo to enlarge] It is a lovely area nestled in the bluffs of Caledonia, and I have visited this area all my life. We ate gluttonously on Debbie's packed meal and enjoyed the peaceful scenery before Miles became playful. The sprite-ish fellow, giddy with the gift of discarded picnic plate, attempted a sort of Frisbee-playing.



Eagerly, he sought an apprentice, a companion.

First, he coerced Brenda into entering his classroom. She humored him quite awhile before sending me a look of taxed patience as if to say, "He's your husband, YOU keep him entertained."

Grudgingly, I picked up the flimsy contraption and sought to reach the endurance of my predecessor, if not the skill. I accomplished neither. I lacked excellence in throwing, catching, and even in looking graceful—a real feat, I know.

Feeling sorry for the entirely pitiful face on my manipulative husband, my mother stepped forth...and put us all to shame. Miles began showing her tricks, stylish steps, and she basked in the glory of her success:

See Liela Play

...and Brenda and I snorted in disgust from the sidelines.