First Son: Mom, is Heaven a real place?
Me: I donâ€™t believe so. But to tell you the truth, I have never died, so I could be wrong. I am wrong all the time.
First Son: Well, if itâ€™s a real place, then I would like to find you and play catch.
I think we then went to the shoulder of the main road of the conversation and discussed what kind of materials our mitts would be made of in some heavenly kingdom. Husband pointed out that while this is First Sonâ€™s idea of heaven, to play catch with his mother for eternity, it might not be mine. I donâ€™t mind. I actually enjoy playing catch now, but I hate pitching. My god, do I hate pitching.
This was my idea of heaven in high school. Ooooo, that hair, that man makeupâ€¦.