They were gray.  Both of them.  And it’d only taken twenty minutes at the park.

So with half glances into the rear view mirror, I gave my kids the low down.

“When we get home,” I said, “we’ll wash our hands before we eat…

we’ll wash ‘em before we fiddle with stuff upstairs…

and before we drag our fingers across the walls

and before we play the piano.”

I put my explaining hand back on the wheel.  I couldn’t think of anything else.

The van was quiet.  For almost two miles.

And then my son peeped, “and before we pick our nose.”