Dad.

Nikki and I were fighting like feral cats, as we often did, when my dad turned around in his seat and ordered us to stop fighting. Pul-ease! Like that's going to do the trick. I was right and I knew I was right . . . though now if you ask me what we were fighting about, I couldn't tell you. I ignored my sister and turned my attention to my dad, who was busily maneuvering our enormo-van down the highway. I pleaded my case, insisting that he see my side and see justice done. Nikki couldn't be aloud to win. Ridiculous.
As it often goes with arguing kids, when I tried to show the light of how I was offended by Nikki, she thwarted my by inserting her own interpretation of the story. Over and over again.

After hearing us bicker, Dad turned around in his seat and said, "Stop it. You're making a mountain out of a mo hill."

Our response to him was to pause. Think about what he said. Then erupt in laughter. We turned our bickering ways to poking fun of dad's pidgin' slip. Not only did Dad, stop our fighting, but it gave us something to laugh about for quite some time.

Dad, I love you. Happy Father's day. Thanks for listening to all my "MO HILLS".

Here's dad changing my tire helping me change my tire.Dad and Ruby, supporting George's little league game.

And to Mark. Happy Father's day. You are a wonderful, brilliant, loving father. I couldn't have asked for anything more. Luv, erin