So, yesterday was Andrew’s sixteenth birthday. As we were driving to dinner, I overhear this conversation between him and his sister.
Kyra: Andrew! Promise me you’ll get married someday!
Andrew: ?????? Why?
Kyra: I don’t want you to die alone!
Andrew: ????? Uh, okay.
Kyra: And I’ll make sure you’re buried next to your wife! And I’ll visit your grave every week!
Andrew: ?????????
Kyra: And be sure to have kids!
Andrew: Mom …
Yeah. Not really sure what that was all about. Of course, it’s not every day your brother turns sixteen. But then we arrived at the pizza place and that seemed to make everything all right.
Writing Wrongs 