Not so much Stryker.
Skip to just two short hours ago. The Matron finally got around to the first section of last Sunday's New York Times and read this heart-breaking piece on people--children--who live in garbage heaps. You know how children might fall into middle-class swimming pools and accidentally drown? Elsewhere in the world, children take a wrong step and drown in the liquid waste of garbage.
Just as the Matron was folding the paper, Stryker came skulking into the kitchen, in search of something 'cool and refreshing.'
Stryker (with genuine shock and a hint of outrage): "Fudge bars! Fudge bars! I can't believe there's no ice cream in this house! Why can't we have ICE CREAM LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE!"
And it was all she could do to stop herself from snatching that fudge bar out of his hands and shaking him silly!! Thank God-Oprah-Buddha-Allah-Universe (in that order) that you are standing in the granite-counter high-end kitchen holding a fudge bar. Really. She wanted to scream.
Instead, she calmly asked him to put away the fudge bar and handed him the article.
Boy, transformed. There's the power of the Word (and photo).