School is out now. Last day was yesterday. Yippeee! Double overtime for Daddy.
So far so good.
I finally put on my cargo shorts again, which only concerns you inasfar as it means I'm carrying my old man notepad with me.
The first gem is something that came up when I talked to a little friend of mine who proudly told me he has two mommies. When I asked him if he had a brother or sister, he said, "I got a brudder." When I asked if the brother was big or little, he said, "He's a ogre brudder."
I smell the title of a kids' story there. The Ogre Brudder.
But I also found an older note in my notepad. It is something I overheard:
"Hit Grammy. Am I forgiven?"
The context was morning dropoff and the Grammy had accidentally scratched the kid's neck while fussing with some clothing. In response to the kid's unbelieving open-eyed pre-cry stare she held out her hand and asked to be hit. Once wasn't enough for her, but after a few smacks, she finally asked to be forgiven.
Issues In The Making for 500, Sigmund.
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1 comment:
I think "My Ogre Brudder" sounds like a hit. What ever happened to the kids and the weather machine? Or, wait, what was his name? Bally? Rolly? I liked that one. I think I may still have a copy somewhere.
Finding your blog has been the way best thing that has happened to me this week--by a landslide and then some (an avalanche? I think that comes next). I'm glad to see you're still writing in any form what will have ya.
I miss you m'friend. Give my love to Madge, Coco and Jules. And drop me a line sometime. Still at greyline at hotmail dot com.
Ben
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