Columns by Greg Wallace

As I arrived at the end-of the-school-year, first-grade class picnic the other day, little did I know that my daughter and I were soon to be lifted into the pantheon of athletic greatness. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if we appear on a Wheaties box some day.

The other day, I got a chance to do what most virile, manly men of my caliber can only dream of doing. No, I didn’t go grizzly bear hunting in the Yukon or spear-fishing for tarpon in the Gulf of Mexico. I did something much more masculine. I got to spend a Saturday afternoon attending a high school prom premier followed by a little girls dance recital.

Do you know there is a brand spanking new American Girl Doll Store in suburban St. Louis? Neither did I until our car was pulling into the parking lot for the brand spanking new American Girl Doll Store in suburban St. Louis. If the car didn’t have automatic-locking back doors, I probably would have employed a high-speed jump, tuck and roll tactic to avoid going to the brand spanking new American Girl Doll Store in suburban St. Louis.

Our goldfish tried to eat me this morning. It was a harrowing experience to say the least. As I stared down into his jaws of death, I couldn’t help but think back to when we first got this monstrous beast.