This morning, I told my son not to fib.
He replied, “But, it’s okay to fib! It’s Fibruary.”
Forget your troubles; come read about mine
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EmailMy five year old son and nine year old daughter have started racing each other all the time. They race to the car, they race upstairs, they race getting dressed.
The other night they were eating dinner when my son said he wanted to race to see who could finish their food first. My smart daughter said, “No. We can’t race when we’re eating, because you might choke”.
My equally intelligent son replied, “Okay. If you finish eating first it’s not a race, but if I finish first, IT IS.”
Once upon a time there was a plane crash.
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Oceanic 815, broke apart and fell onto an island in the south Pacific; also known as
the Island of Beautiful Plane-Crash-Surviving-People.
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The Beautiful People amazingly found an enormous food supply, walkie-talkies, guns, strange tunnels and hidden rooms filled with static-laden televisions and big syringes. But, on the downside they also found polar bears and a big, black cloud that mysteriously kills people.
The Beautiful People amazingly found an enormous food supply, walkie-talkies, guns, strange tunnels and hidden rooms filled with static-laden televisions and big syringes. But, on the downside they also found polar bears and a big, black cloud that mysteriously kills people.
All the while, there were numbers everywhere.
These numbers…4, 8, 15, 16, 23 and 42.
And, if you think they don’t mean anything, that’s because they don’t mean anything.
But luckily, or unluckily, depending on your perspective, there were others on this island. Others who were crazily enough called…
The Others.
As nice as you would expect people named The Others to be. They did bad things, like kidnap and gag the Beautiful People, who were then taken to cages where they had to do pet tricks for fish biscuits.
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Alas, the Beautiful People could not be held down! They schemed, planned and talked about being rescued by Penny’s boat. Only it was NOT Penny’s boat.
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Even though it wasn’t Penny’s boat, people still showed up to save them from The Others, and the polar bears, and the big black cloud.
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No, not those people, but some other ones.
But, when one of the rescuers saw the Beautiful People he said, ”Rescuing your people? I can’t really say it’s our primary objective.” Ruh Roh!
Boys and girls, I would like to tell you that this fairy tale ends well and that the Beautiful People lived happily ever after…but, I can’t. As much as this fairy tale has sucked me in…I can’t tell you how it ends, because unfortunately I’m still LOST.
At the eye doctor’s office the other day, a technician put my five year old son in an exam chair, then sat down on her rolling stool.
My son asked, “Mom, do you smell that?”
As I quickly looked for sand to bury my head in, I said, “No. I don’t smell anything.”
Even though I knew something bad was coming, that poor lady didn’t have a clue. Not even when my son sniffed the air again and said, “I smell something Mom.”
And, as the technician rolled closer to him, and he took in the full aroma, he said, “I smell something…and it smells like my poop.”
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