My four-year-old and I are sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. I’m on the Mac, writing as usual. She’s coloring. At least, until she puts down the crayons and pushes away her Dora the Explorer coloring book. She has a question for me.
Mom? Can I have a pen and a piece of paper? I want to write a story.
“Once upon a time there was an elephant who every else thought was crazy, like that mean old kangaroo who really needs a time out, but he was really nice and trying to save those little Who-people on that clover flower. His name was Horton and that mean old kangaroo who needs a time out just didn’t want to listen to Horton about the little Who-people on the clover which isn’t a good thing to do because mean old kangaroos should always listen to crazy elephants named Horton about little Who-people who live on a speck on a clover.
No thanks, Mom. I don’t need a snack right now. I’m working.
Horton is nice because he saved the clover people even if everybody thought he was crazy because he didn’t care that everybody thought he was crazy and he just wanted to be nice and save the little clover people so that mean old kangaroo could just go on thinking whatever she wanted because she needs a time out anyway.
When I finish, this is for you.
Time outs aren’t fun because Mama and Daddy make you sit on the stairs while you cry and don’t come to tell you why you need to apologize until the timer on the microwave goes beep and usually it’s something like your attitude which they think is cute most of the time and then this time they tell you to go to time out for it so it’s really frustrating sometimes and…
You’re listening to me write this, aren’t you?
The mean old kangaroo decided she learned her lesson and stopped calling Horton crazy ‘cuz name calling is mean and it’s nice to be nice all the time and save little Who-people living on clover flowers because that is a good deed and deserves a special surprise like maybe a vanilla frappachino and a trip to Barnes and Noble.
Mom? Can I have another piece of paper? I think Daddy needs a story, too.
Pauline M. Campos is wife to The Husband, mother to “Buttercup,” and has decided that it’s time to make peace with her cellulite.
She got started in newspapers and served as city editor for a few local papers before hitting the big time at The Detroit News and freelancing for the Metro-Detroit based Metro Parent Magazine before taking a break after baby. She’s a featured blogger at www.owningpink.com and contributes to the hilarious www.anarmyofermas.com. Oh right, and her own blog? That’s www.aspiringmama.com. You’re welcome.
She’s also pretty sure God made her lactose intolerant because she refused to stop chewing her ice cream.
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