Saturday, my nine-year-old grandson was anxious to get to
our house. But I told him, “I’ve got to
drop off this envelope at the Post Office.”
So, Bennett asked, “Who’s it to?”
I answered, “It’s to Mr. X. He’s
a lawyer.” Bennett looked confused. “A liar?” he said. “No,” I replied, “A lawyer.” Bennett was still puzzled, “Did you say that
Mr. X was a liar?” I thought for a
moment. You may be onto something there,
Bennet. You may be.
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