A thank you and a beer

We're a pretty communicative family, no doubt about it. Not only do my girls e-mail and text and call on the phone with chitter-chatter and pseudo tweets, they also mail me goodies. Real mail, snail mail, via the United States Postal Service.

Just last week I received a couple postcards -- not something I typically find in my mailbox.

First up was a precious thank-you card from Bubby. Megan's teaching the boy right and made him put pen to paper to thank Gramma and PawDad for his recent birthday gifts.

Bubby decorated the front of the card with stickers and special words. Megan translated, with Bubby's best comment of all -- for whatever reason -- being "Big banana. Eat it."

The back of the card was Megan's words because although at two-years-old Bubby obviously has the motivation, he's not yet mastered the fine art of thank-you-card protocol.

Coming in from the opposite end of the grandparenting/parenting spectrum was the postcard I received from Andrea last week. I'll let it speak for itself.


And back:

In her defense, Andrea did send a Thank You card last week, too, expressing her gratitude for the birthday gifts we gave her.

But it's the beer tour postcard that made me smile most because, c'mon, how many 25-year-olds share their drinking adventures with their parents? And think of dear ol' Mom and Dad while downing a pint or two at the pub? And actually fill out a postcard for them while there?

Like I said, we're a pretty communicative family.

Today's question:

When did you last send a postcard? Where did you send it from and to whom?

My answer: I actually sent a postcard just last week. It was part of my friend Amber's campaign to end breed-specific legislation in Denver (the legislation that bans pit bulls, like my Mickey).