"My father is a soldier..."

As I picked Jameson up today from school, I showed him a flower I had gotten from the American ex-prisoners of war for giving them money. (If he is with me, I usually let Jameson shove money in the jar for the American Legion and they hand out silk poppies, these guys hand out silk daisies). It held it and said, "It smells wonderful!" (Personally, I don't really care to smell silk flowers). He asked me where I got it and I told him a soldier gave it to me when I put money in the jar. He replied, "My father is a soldier." I said, "Yes, he is..." (kind of). I asked him what soldier do, what daddy does. He replied, "They shoot! They shoot walls, and buildings, and cars! The shoot signs. Signs are very bad, so they shoot them. He shoots high and low and very far." It was an interesting account of what soldiers do. He misses his daddy very much. It is truly heart breaking.