Making Amends

For some of us, it's that time of year where we make a point of reflecting on the good and bad we've done during the year and - where necessary - apologize for the bad. Here I go:

To the British Guy in Mexico

Sorry to the British guy sitting in front of me on our tour bus in Mexico. It might have appeared to you that the 30-minute long, unsuccessfully muted hysterics coming from my middle child and me that started at the same time as the obviously painful collision between your head and the luggage rack (and your subsequent very proper upper-crust British-accented muttering to your wife about the resulting pain) were related. Not so. We were laughing at something else entirely. But I am sorry if you thought otherwise.

To Sports Fans Who Read My Blog

When I wrote optimistic pre-season reports on the Raptors and Jays, I may have inadvertently caused some of you to share in my annual rite of self-delusion. I'm sorry for that. To make amends, I won't give you a heads up re: what could be a championship season for the Leafs. (Nay, likely will be a championship season for the Leafs. In the bag.)

To My Wife

Sorry about the spiders. Sorry that I continue to fail to buy you gifts that you like on the first try. Sorry that I write things that directly or indirectly refer to you in my Facebook and Blog posts and then don't have the courage to tell you to read them. Sorry that I'm not serious about apologizing for any of these things (including this last one).

To My Two Older Daughters

When you were little, cameras weren't as ubiquitous as they are today. There wasn't Facebook. I didn't Blog. So it may seem like I make a much bigger deal out of your little sister's childhood years than I did with yours. I'm sorry I didn't chronicle every detail of your early years. You two were also cute and clever and many of your amazing moments have been lost in the annals of time. If it's any consolation, your little sister didn't get to live through the Spice Girls years.

To My Youngest Daughter

I'm sorry that I make your older sisters so jealous and that they take it out on you. I think I may have fixed it above. If it doesn't help, let me know if they try anything. I've got your back. You know how much daddy loves you.

To Cats

You know who you are. I'm sorry you suck.

To the Readers of this Post

I'm sorry that this post isn't very good and I wasted your time just now. I just wrote it because I wanted an excuse to tell you about the British Guy banging his head. Man that was funny. I haven't laughed like that in months.

The funny thing is that it's usually my lovely wife who loses it when she sees someone hurt himself or herself. She's done it to me - laughing uncontrollably when instead she should be taking steps to save my life. And I've called her on it many times, scolding her self-righteously when she laughs - for example - at her daughters stubbing their toes, flipping over their feet, or whacking their elbows on the furniture.

So when British Guy had his encounter with the luggage rack and I lost it, I felt like Mary Tyler Moore at the Chuckles the Clown funeral.

Anyways, I apologize.