He'll eat it. That simple. He'll eat it, and poop it out in your pantry on top of something not well sealed a few hours later.
Both of my children have a Breakthrough to Literacy program going in each of their schools - which is great, don't get me wrong - but I've read the Cat in the Hat so many times this last week that in real life conversations I'm beginning to sound like I'm channeling Dr. Seuss.
"You should not be in here when your mother is not, quit trying to flush your shoe down the pot!"
I'm not proud of that one, but I did say it. Then there's the second bedtime favorite, called "Peekaboo, I love you!" It's a cute little story about a little bug-boy that gets a new kitten and hugs it too tight, then has to chase it down and find it in the house. By the time he finds it, he's so worn out from looking for it that he lays down with it for a nap (that's my favorite part).
Point is, I've been feeding my brain so many cutesy prose kids books that my ability to hold an adult conversation has almost completely gone out the window. Again.
This is a total digression, but I mentioned Stephen King in the last post - I've got Kingdom Hospital on my television at the moment and there's an injured man laying in a hospital bed being threatened by an anteater. It's not a possessed transsexual broomstick - but I rest my case, at any rate.
What would I do with fame like that, where when you have a lazy day you can just spin out nonsensical bs and people will read it anyway, just because it has your name on it?
.....I'd start a blog.
Until next time...
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