The Apple doesn’t Fall Far from the Tree

     Ed comes in from his trike ride and somehow knocks a glass of water off the table.

     “Damn Booby Trap,” he growls as he stomps off. (Before I made him come back and mop it up.)

     That’s what DeRay says every time he has an accident, even if it’s his fault.

     “Your room’s a bit messy,” I chide later in the afternoon.

     “Like father like son,” he quips.