just letters

the one about the stories we tell

dear silly girl,

your uncle mark is notorious for just making up stories and telling them with a straight face. you’ll know it’s not true, but you’ll question yourself anyway.

well, your daddy does this to me all the time. up until here recently i had totally believed a story that he told me about vehicles and gas. he told me years ago that it was better to not turn my car off when i was waiting in the car for him in the store {or under similar circumstances} because it would waste more gas if i turned it off and then cranked my car because it had to suck more gas up in the engine.

he must have forgotten that he told me this story because i left the car running while he went in Domino’s to get our pizza the other day and when he got back in the car he asked me why i didn’t turn my car off. after i told that i left it running so i didn’t waste gas by sucking it up into the engine when i cranked my car again, he almost died laughing.

did i really tell you that?

uh, yes. yes, you did. and i believed it.

ahahahha.

well i’ve started doing this to you sometimes, and daddy totally doesn’t get when to keep his trap shut.

mama, i want a popsicle.

what color?

orange.

okay, here you go.

you eat about an inch of the popsicle and, naturally, want a different color.

mama, i want a red one.

put that one in the sink and i’ll get you a red one. but this is the last one.

mama, orange is too cold.

they’re all going to be cold. they’re popsicles. sicle means cold.

daddy’s big, loud trap from in the living room: sicle does not mean cold!

why don’t you mind your business?!

what about a sickle that you use on a lawn mower?

that’s a different kind of sicle!!

smarty pants.

… i took daddy back to the surgeon’s office today so they could remove his stitches.  the nurse who took us back instructed him to shimmy his stuff off and get on the table in a position where they could get his stitches out. i told him he should pose rather suggestively to take the edge off. he loves it when i go with him.

the nurse put some kind of sticky strips over where the stitches were and informed us that we would be cussing her when we had to remove them in a week. oh happy day. i’m going to get daddy a shot of hard liquor for this occasion.

… i’m so excited about Halloween tomorrow! we’re going to trick or treat in downtown Liberty, visit some very festive, ritzy neighborhoods, and possibly a trunk or treat so that you get plenty of trick or treating experience. every time i tell you to say trick or treat you sing, trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good for eat, {yes, for eat. i don’t know why you hear for when i say to.} that’s as much of that song as i will teach you because you would think it was hilarious to tell someone if you don’t, i don’t care, i’ll pull down your underwear. when i was little, we knew not to sing that part. i think you’d do it anyway.

i plan to raid your pink pumpkin bucket for the good stuff when you pass out from walking.

it’s how i get paid.

doesn’t everyone have to pay their chauffeur?

trick or treat?

love forever,

mama

 

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