My God-Daughter is mischievous. From the time she was a little squirt, she’s liked to talk, dance, squirm and giggle non-stop. She is a precious treasure to her entire family, but she’s also as ornery as they come.
Last night we found the now-nine-year-old and her family at church between services and we took a few minutes to talk. We caught up on the activities of the past week or two as hundreds of attenders filed past in the busy hallways.
Out of the blue my dear God-Daughter reported loudly, “You probably have a Man Diary.”
This statement was so out of context and unexpected, I had to ask her to repeat herself. She leaned forward so this old guy could hear her better. She looked right into my eyes and repeated the phrase, louder and with too much emphasis on the word “Diary“.
I thought for a moment about her accusation. And then, like a magician pulling a rabbit from his hat, I pulled out my black writer’s notebook from under my arm and held it up for her to see.
“You DO have a Man-Diary!” she yelled.
“I like to call it a notebook.” was my weak reply.
She giggled, knowing that she’d caught me in some shameful act. I explained that this book, this notebook, was used to document my observations and my thoughts for the blogs I write.
“Ya,” she said, nodding her head triumphantly and folding her arms. “It’s a Man-Diary.” And she giggled even more.
As we parted, I hugged her tight and kissed her forehead. Although, I’m not sure she deserved any of it!
As soon as I found my seat in church, I opened the black notebook to the front page and in big, bold letters I wrote, “This is my Man-Diary.” Now there will never be a question about it again.