With Kids, It’s the Little Things

I was going to name this post “Wears your paddle… Sure does” when I realized that the riddle that those words are attributed to only works in person. Not when read in text. The riddle is as follows:

Two guys are canoeing through a desert. One of them says:
“Where’s your paddle…”
The other responds “Sure does.”

What does it mean?

Except the real riddle says “wears” not “where” apostrophe “s”. Where the spelling is, of course, not obvious to the listener. So.

desertboat

Good riddle. Bad for online. But plz go tell your friends & family. It’s a show stoppah,for shore. hehe πŸ˜‰ anyway

The 8 yo I nanny loves riddles. He knows quite a lot of them. In the first week that I was nannying for these kids, I told H the Paddle riddle and he was befuddled. He and his sister (11 yo) both. In fact, they were fuzzed, flustered and heh’d for the entire day. Weekend, even. Since I shared the riddle at the end of a week. So what’d they do? Asked dad of course. Dang.

They came back knowing the riddle. They told me they understood. Oh well, they were bound to figure it out sooner or later. And I’m glad they did. Because now we have a super inside joke about the riddle that only the three of us can understand. And when other friends and family are around, they can’t piece anything together related to any riddle.

I’ll respond to something saying “Sure is!” And they’ll respond to me saying “Sure does!” in reference to the riddle.

As little as it may seem, this brightens my day; every time. Even after the constant fights, the hitting wars, the throwing objects across the room, the blood-curdling screams… it turns out that the little things really do provide that spark of joy that brings a smile and clears the mind; providing a clean slate for a moment.

littlethings

Moments like these are a reminder of the good things in life. And they provide the hope that teaches us that life goes on, and things get better~

Sure does. ❀

Love in a thunderstorm

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On the left is a giant thunder storm covering most of the island. To the right is what was left of the sun. I was in the middle.

The wind blew hard and my hair whipped my neck as I rode my bike down the hill to Max’s house. I’m scared to go out in this for fear of seeing him. I thought to myself as I biked rapidly, trying to avoid getting caught in the storm.

The sky was dark in front of me. The rain could be seen two or maybe one mile off in the distance. It was moving in fast. People gathered on the west side of the island to watch the lightning strike across the bay. What a natural beauty, lightning is. Like him.

I got to Max’s house, retrieved the hidden key, and let myself in. He was sitting on the ground waiting for me. He didn’t say a word. I don’t want to go out and see him like this. With Max. All sweaty and still in my work clothes. I’ll just wear my sunglasses. Maybe he won’t recognize me.

“Come on, Max. Let’s go.”

We got ready and left the house. Our walk was brief. I told him about what I was feeling. As I talked, something stirred inside of me. A rumble of thunder. I felt giddy and excited. My fears of seeing him dissipated. Now it was what I craved. The wind blew and the sky darkened. Fierce blows of cool air shook leaves off of trees and creaked a swing in the yard next door. My insides felt electric.

“Max, we’ve got to go home!!!” I told him giddily, picturing him and what I would say to him if he saw me right then.

We would stop what we were doing and look at each other in the eyes. The rain would start coming down, slowly at first. After some eternal moments, the rain would pick up and we would approach each other. Our eyes would say so much all at once, and we would touch hands. And laugh. And run for cover somewhere right as the downpour began.

Max didn’t understand my thoughts. He scoffed at me and said I was naive. “No love story begins in such a ridiculous manner.” He didn’t say the words out loud, but his face said it all.

“Oh, what do you know Max.” We arrived back at Max’s house. I unclipped his leash and let him inside, giving him a treat before I locked the door behind me.

As I stepped outside, the wind was more ferocious than before. And a thunderclap was heard to the west. Lightning was soon to come…

thunder

… and when it did, it would strike his heart and mine at the same time ~*~

I hate myself

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I am not 2-dimensional. But snapchat and Facebook make me so. A 2-dimensional me, unflattering pictures, showing lower than low. Whenever I go on Facebook, I become self conscious about my photos. And judge other people based on theirs. If I don’t look like a model in every picture I get upset. If I have a double chin or squinty eyes or a goofy dimple or a hundred other things it can ruin a memory for me. I start thinking of how I looked that day and whether or not others perceived me in either a hostile or loving way based on my looks. Continue reading