Why does small child plus big word equal adorable?
Today with the first grade reading group when I asked one of the boys to use a certain word in a sentence, he decided he wanted to bring a different word to the table.
Boy: It's abomination!
Me: [laughing and smiling] OK, how about using this word in a sentence? [want]
Boy: I want gummy bears!
And then we were on a sweet-tooth track.
Boy: Wasn't he not eating gummy bears?
This reminded me of the time I, as a small child, got fixated on marshmallows while camping with my family. See, the thing was we had forgotten to take any marshmallows with us. Shocking, I know. Every chance I got, I would remind my parents of the mistake. When a man in a neighboring campsite drove away in his truck I immediately spoke up: He's going to the store to get marshmallows. (And yes, my parents thought I was adorable).
Every day, or every other day, or every other other day—I have yet to notice a clear pattern—the group of mailboxes near my house decides to raise their red flags to attention. Even my mailbox joins in. I can imagine them all laughing at me as I walk away, junk mail in hand, oblivious to the action of the flags. I wonder if this upsets the mailcarrier the following day when he or she surely finds no outgoing mail in the boxes? Maybe the flags go down at night. I should check tomorrow morning. Or maybe the mailboxes have their own mail to send. What sort of mail would one mailbox send to another mailbox? "Have you read anything new lately?" Just imagine: mailbox pen pals.
"Dear 3622 Oak,
Well I just got hammered back into shape. Some guy hit me last week with his car. At least I didn't get thrown in the scrap heap.
"Dear 1245 B Street,
You would think these people would be getting tired of soggy mail and have the holes in me fixed. Sorry if you can't read this because the ink is smeared. We had a downpour today.
675 Blueberry Drive"