Girl: Look at the American flag! I hung it… Doesn’t it look good?
Me: Wow!! You did a beautiful job. Looks great!
Girl: Thanks… I know. I do good things, and I look good doing ’em.
I don’t know if you’re already aware of Studio C, the clean comedy sketch show on Youtube, but I am HOOKED, y’all! Some of them are so funny I can barely breathe from laughing. (And some of them are just okay, but you can’t hit it out of the park every time.)
“Teddy’s Story Joint” is among my favorites. The rest of you authors or aspiring authors ought to get a kick out of it, too. Please enjoy and tell me what your favorite parts are. (Mine are “Calvin and Hobbes special” and the Star Wars/Harry Potter connection.) Read the rest of this entry
My sister-in-law told me this story:
One of her sons really liked a certain pair of socks with palm trees on them, so she got them for him for Christmas. Little did she know, until the package was removed and the socks were unfolded, that they weren’t adorned with palm trees at all. Read the rest of this entry
When my girls saw a Chick-fil-A mascot on a street corner, they immediately and wordlessly, rolled down their windows and began mooing at it.
My husband said, “What are you doing?”
They said, “We’re talking to the cow!”
When I was checking my oldest’s writing, I noticed some odd things.
For instance, a word was missing a few letters. When I pointed it out, my daughter said, “Some letters that were invited to the word party didn’t show up.”
Um, let’s have them arrive late then, shall we?
She responded, “Somebody put rocks in them.”
And finally, I dared to ask why a comma was floating above the line.
But then it was found.
My daughter’s book.
(I know. That was a horribly misleading title, wasn’t it? But, you love me anyway.)
My eight-year-old is rarely to be seen without her face buried in a book. At the table, in the bathroom, in the car, in the cart at the grocery store. I just have to pile the food items around her.
Yesterday she couldn’t find her book. A rare occurrence, to be sure. She searched high and low through the house but to no avail. My husband said he’d check the car.
Daughter literally (pun!) paced back and forth across the kitchen floor, nibbling on her fingertips, waiting for Father to return. She bore a look of concern like a man at the hospital waiting to find out if his wife made it out of surgery okay. Read the rest of this entry