Wes Funnies

If you think the Faulkettes are funny, you should hear their Papi…

– Wes, talking with a gentleman from our church regarding the “Friends of Jesus” Sunday school class, “You’re not a friend of Jesus!”  The intentional implication wouldn’t have been funny had it been anyone else, but this particular gentleman gives as good as he gets.

– Wes on why his dad will probably never run a Disney race, “He doesn’t like to open his wallet too wide for races.”  Me to Wes, “But your mother’s going to register for one soon.”  Wes to me, “Well, yeah.  She likes opening his wallet wide for lots of things.”  True for the elder Mrs. Faulk… and true for the younger Mrs. Faulk.  (And we’ll be opening both of their wallets wide later this week for a Disney race, actually!)

– While watching TV with Ana, a commercial about… well, some special pills for men with a certain dysfunction (trying to keep this blog PG, y’all) came on.  Wes looked at Ana, Ana looked at Wes, and Wes concluded, before she could even ask the obvious questions, “He was sick.  But he got some medicine to make everything ALL better!”  And how!  Way to troubleshoot, Papi.

– Wes to me, when I asked him why we were still eating when we weren’t even hungry anymore, “We’re Americans.  We kill time by eating food.”  He’s so right, y’all.

– Em to Wes, “How did you get Mommy to marry you?”  Wes to Em, “Well, I told her I loved her.  And I waited around and didn’t go anywhere until she finally agreed to marry me!”  He didn’t have to wait very long, but… yeah, that’s how it happened.

– Wes, after watching the Spurs game while I tried to discuss the spiritual implications behind what I was reading about the one-flesh relationship in Christ found in marriage, “Yeah, sure.  Hey, one-flesh, watch this play.”  And because I’m one-flesh, I should care, right?  (And I do!)

– Wes, after our long run together, when I started bemoaning how gross I looked, “You look pretty.”  When I started bemoaning how gross I smelled, “You smell pretty.”  After I gave him a bemused look, “You ARE pretty.”  Is it any wonder that I’m willing to run miles and miles and miles for this man?

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