OK, you have a point there. Walking

around NYC last weekend I sweated more than I have all year in

climate-controlled Dallas. The first day and a half we were gallivanting

around Brooklyn with the two boys, Julie and I were like, “Why did we ever

leave?” A day later, with blistered feet, aching backs, sweat-soaked clothes

and trailing a couple of very demanding shorties, we said, “Oh yeah, that’s

why.”

“Daaa-aaa-aaaa-d! I’m TI-I-I-I-RED!”

“Matthew, you walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and back when you weren’t

even three years old. Don’t give me this.”

“But Daaa-aaa-aaa-d!”

Et cetera, ad infinitum.