Sympathy. Or not.

One of Joseph's long-standing complaints against me is that I tend not to be overly sympathetic.

Have a cold?  Here are some tissues and you'd better get moving so you don't miss the bus.

Unfortunate, but true.

By the end of high school, Joseph had trained me to ask "Are you ok?" - although it wasn't always delivered with the maximum possible sympathy.  I mean - c'mon - I can see when he's really ok.

Anyway, one of my favorite moments from the summer came in August, after G fell off his chair and started to cry.

Joseph looked at him, totally dispassionately, and stated: "Well, I told you that'd happen."

Long pause.

And then he turned and caught my eye - - - busted!

What's that about the apple and the tree?