Dad, he's my Skunk Double

Just before school let out for the summer, we parents were invited to come in and see what our first-graders had been working on all year. We waded through a folder packed with math quizzes, writing assignments, spelling words, and art projects. We sat through a PowerPoint presentation the teachers had done, showing a picture slideshow set to music of those adorable kids at work. This had been an eventful year - the local news station had done a TV broadcast a few weeks before, because one of his classmate's community service project had been to adopt a unit in Iraq and send letters and care packages. At the end, my son drags on my hand, and wants to show me what he made on his locker. It's a trace cutout of his whole body, decorated in a 7-year-old's crayon creativity, and named with a silly relettering of his name. "Dad, he's my Skunk Double," he says. I could not hold back my smile, but it was all I could do to hold back my laughter. "What is he?" I asked, just to hear it again. He obliged. "Oh, that is a beautiful Skunk Double," I said in a voice shaking from suppressed laughter. Jeremy, you're the best!!!