I picked up Đán at the end of his summer-school day. As he hopped into the minivan, he said, “I love you, daddy.” I replied, “I love you, too.” He said, “I am surprised that you didn’t say ‘No, you don’t.’” I responded, “Of course, I know you love me. You don’t have an option.”
As I drove home he started telling me a game he played in the classroom. He had to write down one lie and two truths. He wrote, “I have a cat,” which is a lie. Then he wrote, “My brother Đạo hates me,” which is his opinion, not the truth. Then he wrote, “I hate myself,” which is also not the truth.
His teacher got worried and sent him to the principal’s office. The principal told him that she was concerned about our family; therefore, she will call me or my wife to talk about our loathsome family members. He apologized that he got us in trouble. He thought he was being comedic because I kept telling him that being a comedian makes tons of money.
I was laughing the whole way home, but I am not looking forward to the call from the principal. I am just going to pass it on to my wife.