Gum

Me (having discovered a plop of gum on the living room floor):  “WHO HAD GUM?  YOU KNOW YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE GUM IN MY HOUSE!  BECAUSE THIS SORT OF NONSENSE HAPPENS!”

I round up the usual suspects.  The usual suspects, as usual, plead innocence and/or utter ignorance.

Kate:  “Not me.  I don’t even LIKE gum.”

Mark:  “I had gum.”

Me:  “OH?”

Mark:  “But not in the living room.  In the sandbox.”

Me:  “WHAT?”  (a pause whilst I think through what he said.)  “Where is that gum now?”

Mark:  “I dropped it IN the sandbox.”

Me (attempting calm, but having visions of him plucking up sand-covered gum to chew again.)  “Then what?”

Mark:  “Kate made me throw it out.”

Whew.  At least SOMEONE has developed some common sense.

 

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Mark’s Poem

The poem Mark wrote for school…

OUCH!

Jumping off

Your playhouse.

Donkey bites.

Falling off your bike.

Nail come off.

Electric shock.

Hit with a metal hammer.

Ouch!

Well, they do say write what you know.

I’m not sure about the electric shock, although it wouldn’t surprise me.  Everything else he has, indeed, managed to inflict upon himself.

Low Opinion of Me

Me (looking through a giant pile of school papers):  “Oh, look, there’s a poem you wrote, Mark.  And a something about Frog and Toad.  Come tell me what they say.  I can’t read them.”

Mark (incredulous):  “You can’t READ?”

Me:  “I can read JUST FINE.  I can’t make out parts of your handwriting.”

Mark:  “Oh.”