M took A hiking Sunday while I painted the house.
A tripped at a scenic lookout and bit his lip; I guess there was blood everywhere and everyone but M was freaking out.
But the big news is that during their hike, for about a mile and a half, A held a pretty large fir branch in front of himself and hummed the Bromley Tune.
M (wishing for a music change): "Hey A, what are you doing?"
A (waving a Very Large Stick): "Clacking Bromley Sticks, just like Daddy J."
M: "Oh."
A: "[I'll] Sing the Bromley one more time."
M (to himself): "You said that seventy-one times ago."
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