lessons learned from little lads

I woke up this morning with a sore throat.
Having a sore throat is the sort of illness where one can't help but complain, despite the fact that the
injury is really quite manageable. I was in the mood to complain about my irritation. As my son arose
this morning, his faithful greeting of "Hi, dad" was more gruff than usual.
{I say more gruff than usual because he has a habit of lowering his voice to sound more tough, in case those of you
who haven't had the blessing of talking to him are confused, but I digress.}

Noting this deepening and scratched tone to his voice, I asked, "Hey man, do you have a sore throat?"

"Yes", came the baritone call from my 7 year-old.

"Aw, man, so do I. I guess we both do."

There it was, I had set up my chance to commiserate. What would he say to remind me that misery loves company?


"Too bad", was his blunt but quite accurate assessment of our mutually inflammed throats.

My wife and I started laughing, for quite a bit of time, so much that we had to explain to him the simplicity and
truth in his comment. He thought we were laughing at him for saying something silly, but really I had been the one who was
pensively puerile.

The truth is that it's too bad when little trials come our way, but they come for a reason. For whatever reason, at that moment little Jonathan was years beyond my tired and childish attitude of this morning, and he knew that complaining solves nothing.