“Jesse! Why’d you dump out the whole bag of cereal?”
“I DIDN’T!”
“Then why’s the whole bag dumped out?”
“Well . . . it’s kind of hard to explain.”
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Last night as I was walking in from taking out the garbage, I heard a little voice call to me from the second story window above and to the right of our front porch. “Mom,” it said, “I decided I actually do love Anders.”
Above me, I could glimpse parted curtains and a little, blonde head pressed close to the screen
“That’s good, bud.” I responded back. “I knew you’d decide to be loving.” (His brotherly love had been tried rather sorely earlier when I insisted he let Anders have a turn on a little three-wheeled riding toy.)
“Yah,” the little voice continued, “because I don’t wanna break Anders’ heart. And, if I didn’t love him, it would break his heart. (Pause) Well. It wouldn’t break his heart . . . it would just . . .”
“Make him real sad?” I asked.
“Yah,” he said; and, with that, he decided he wasn’t ready to be in bed after all and with a “Penny! I decided to be nice now!” he ran off to join his sister and re-loved little brother outside.
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Speaking of “playing outside”. What is it about dusk that makes kids so absolutely content to play endlessly outside?
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And . . . I still am not joking about the warp zone at my house that slurps 1/4th cups off into some other dimension while depositing 1/3rd cups in their place. It’s weird.
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