Mason: (speaking quietly, mischievously to Carter) Hey Carter, can you say 'stu...' (stops mid-word when he sees me come around the corner) Mom, I promise I wasn't teaching Carter to say bad words. I was just teaching him regular words, like 'stew' and 'bid.' He can say 'stew' and 'bid' can't he?
Me: (trying not to laugh) Do not teach your brother to say parts of naughty words OR whole ones. I know I'm smiling, but I'm serious. Do you understand me?
I'm sure he understood perfectly.
It was at least 70 degrees today, and now there's a tornado warning in the area. In January? I just told Mason the other day that there aren't ever tornadoes in the winter. I stand corrected.
I'm writing a short story called The Bridge to enter in the Tulsa Library's adult writing contest. Not my best work, really, but they don't have a category for my two best genres (young adult fiction and Christian contemporary fiction). I like the story, but I don't think about it all the time like I do my novels-in-progress. I'll have to get someone to read it and tell me if it's interesting. Any volunteers? I need someone brutally honest. My mom is probably the best one for that job.
1 comment:
You know I will read it if you want me to.
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