Oh to be six years old and have the deepest desires of your heart be fill-able by your mother, who--armed with the best tool from her arsenal--can glue-gun almost anything you want to your truck. First it was a ladder so he could have a hook n' ladder fireman truck. Next Deacon wanted a flashlight atop his truck so he could have the first thing he thought of on his truck. Finally, after being wowed with the ladder and flashlight, and following a fruitless search for any thing else that Mom would okay for further glueing (denied items included but were not limited to: a machine handgun, a steelhead net, a roll of painter's tape, and an assortment of tinker toys), Bryce lamented (forlornly like the horn) his lack of diesel smokestack. Voila, the plastic tube from the miniature glowsticks availed itself . . . and you see the satisfied smile. (Of course, as I type this, they are both in desparate need of being the the firechief which entails driving the firechief suv Nana bought yesterday . . .)
Honestly though, I use the glue gun all the time to
wow them.
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