Top of the day to you.

And you. Hell, top of the day to me. I'd drop the F (but not the bomb) and just top-o'-the-day this, but I don't have an accent. So, the F stays. As it should, even for a lame pun. Something to be said for integrity in writing.

I chastised him. Pretty good. I think that is what dads are supposed to do. I'm responsible that way. He was trying to take a top to school. The spinning variety. Spinning top, not spinning school. (I don't even know what a spinning school would be, unless you are learning how to process wool.) So yeah, a spinning top. Hand out, palm up, head tilted and the furrowed-brow/eyebrow-raise combo. Sign language for "Hand it over kid." Message received and he isn't even deaf. I know, genius. So, I stole his childhood and put it in my pocket as I walked away and left him to his miserable life that is called elementary school.

Well, I'll be damned if his best efforts to be up to no good at all didn't make my day. I found that top in my wee pocket not an hour later. It was like Christmas. I forgot it was there until I slipped my hand in and unwrapped this heavenly gift. An idea, a stopwatch, and a whiteboard later, I am dry-erasing my day away to an office competition.

Today's Competition: "You spin me right round, baby, right round."

It's all in the wrist. I rolled in a 37.6 second effort on my first attempt. Light the cauldron. The Olympics are on. Like the proverbial Donkey Kong. If he is even proverbial. If he is even a donkey. I swear, looks more like an ape to me.

Asian Guy (seriously, that's his name) walks in the room mid spin to ask a "work-related" question. You mean a "nerd-related" question, right? Politely interjecting to see if he can interrupt my spin, "Are you done being a Jew?"

I stand corrected. Hannukah. Finding the top in my pocket was like Hannukah. Not Christmas.

Thanks Asian Guy. You really made my day.