Flatfoot

<---- Why is it little kids can make themselves comfortable no matter where they are? This is Dylan munching on a bag of corn chips. Fire roasted corn chips. He's giving me the wave. Which is what I get when I ask for something I can't eat. Sheesh, even the grandkids know about Crohn's.

The other day, I walked into the kitchen to find Dylan checking out the bottoms of his feet.

"Whatcha doing?"

Large almond-shaped eyes looked up at me. His mother is Chinese and he has the most beautiful features. "I got flat feet."

I bent down. "Oh, my. So you do. Just like Papa's."

He nodded wisely. "I'm gonna be a cop."

"How do you know?"

"I'm Irish and I have flat feet."

I nearly passed out laughing.

Now, my husband has decided, since Dylan is a genius and will certainly grow up to be a successful CEO, I should write a crime novel and call it Flatfoot. He even has the premise fleshed out. The story will be based upon my Irish/Chinese grandson, Dylan Carroll, who will stop and solve a terrorist attack. You see, Dylan's father is wealthy and moved to Hong Kong where he met his Asian wife. Of course, Dylan's father wants his son to grow up to be a great financier, but Dylan wants to be a New York police officer just like his grandfather.

After I lectured my husband on the beauty of China and its history, AND suggested he spend some time on the boy's Chinese heritage, he said, "What wrong with being Irish?"

I answered, "They boil their meat."

He nearly died laughing. Still, the book is a novel idea.

No pun intended.

*grin*

Happy reading!

(((hugs)))

Louann

---