I feel our lives are eighty-five percent reflective of thirty percent of the country west of the Mississippi, which leads me to believe that there are probably other guys with wives who are also currently chasing their son around the house playing pirates with a cup of coffee in one hand and BB rifle in the other. I don't know though; I didn't get an A in Probability and Statistics, but I love numbers nonetheless.

I am 70 percent certain there are many others.

I know a great deal about humor because in my heart I know what's funny. My daughter has been calling me "bro" all afternoon and thinks it's hilarious. As in: 

"hey bro, can we go ice skating?"

And laughing hysterically. Fact is, it's not funny. I know this to be true, because I am funny. I am a funny person, and she is six. Please simply comment below with a simple "not funny" if you are in agreement that a six-year old calling her father "bro" is not funny. At all. 

"The most important thing to remember on the ice,"

I said,

"is to truthfully tell people afterwards that your daddy is a very, very good skater."

- "Okay bro."

It's true about how your memory starts to go as you get older. For example, I had totally forgotten what an awesome skater I am.

Thanks to Melvin the stranger for snapping us.

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