When Chad, Kelly and I were little kids a babysitter of ours gifted each of us with a soup spoon with our name engraved on it. Bryan was (mysteriously) born quite a few years later and therefore wasn't around when the spoons were doled out, but because said spoons were a staple in our silverware drawer growing up he could never really escape his engraved-spoon-less existence which has always been a source of soreness for him. Well, I recently found the aforementioned soup spoons in one of the boxes that I keep in Bevan's attic and I couldn't wait to share my findings on our family text chain. As expected, Bryan was less than thrilled with my discovery. Fortunately for him, our dad, shocking all of us with an unprecedented mastery of contemporary text message lingo, was there to save the day.