Here's the kind of exchange I will miss when my precious Pony leaves the nest. To set the scene, the record must show that on our trip to Oklahoma several weeks ago, we kept passing billboards between Rolla and Springfield, MO that advertised the Uranus Fudge Factory.
"The Best Fudge comes from Uranus"
"Help Us Put Fudge in Uranus"
We were in a hurry both ways, and did not manage to stop. This was something new to me, because it was NOT there when I drove that road for four years of college, and for another two years of work in that area. The area of Springfield. Not the area of Uranus. Uranus sprang up while I was away.
Sunday, we took a drive down to Lambert's, the Throwed Roll Restaurant. That's a tale for another time and another place. But on the way back, we saw a billboard for Uranus! On the opposite side of the state.
"Pony, I can't believe that when you and dad were busy secretly spending my money at the knife factory last week on your registration trip, you didn't at least bring me some candy from Uranus!"
"We SAW Uranus, but we didn't go in."
"That's disappointing. You had plenty of time."
"I think Dad was asleep when we went through Uranus. I didn't want to wake him up just for that."
Yep. The story of my life. My men passed through Uranus, and I didn't even get a lousy T-shirt, much less any delicious fudge.