Yes yes, we know: Not everyone (anyone?) besides Margot, Finn, & me is a fan of calling Henry “Goonie.” My dad pointed this out on the way to the airport this morning.
“People will think he’s… special,” he opined.
“You know, Dad,” I replied, “as far as that goes, we feel about the same as you do about memorizing wine details: we just don’t care.”
Moments later we pulled up at the curb behind a minivan full of scruffy characters, including a middle-aged guy sporting a tank top & a raft of tattoos.
“Oh, since you guys are early, Dad, you could hang out with that guy,” I suggested. “Y’know, maybe get some ink done–get sleeved.”
“Oh yeah,” my dad shot back, “and you know what that guy’s name is? Goonie.”
Well played, sir; well played. 🙂