Brad has been throwing a ball at the kids. In my house. They are running away, loving to be terrorized.
Claire, watching the scene from our overstuffed chair, asked, "Dad, how do you throw so good?" (As you can see, my grammar lessons are really paying off.)
Brad replied, "I'm good at throwing. It's like my second best talent."
Claire quickly responded, "What's your first-best talent?"
"Loving mom," he said.
I die. I love that man.