What Would You Name Your Boat?

When I went with Bob while he went fishing (I was a boat rider. I'm not a fisher girl.) I saw a boat parked off to one side. When I read the name of the boat, I couldn't help but smile!

It was a fishing boat, after all, so "Hold To The Rod" made a lot of hilarious sense.

I tried to think of something I'd name a boat. Floatie? Fish Roof? Bobbin' Along?

No wonder I don't have a boat!

What would YOU name YOUR boat?

Simple, Sweet Sentiment

Sometimes it doesn't take a lot of words to get your point across.

I found this wise saying in a T-shirt in a thrift store. 

(If only I'd known this when I was in high school, I could have aced all my tests!)

Are you a cookie lover?

Or do you like cake better?

Or pie?

What's your pastry weakness?

Historical, Hysterical Monument!

I've been historically oriented since childhood, interested in old houses and places where things happened long ago. That's why I want to read what's on an old memorial whenever I see one!

So when I spotted this monument while driving away from a friend's remote homestead, my husband patiently stopped the truck so I could see what it was all about. 

I actually ran to it, excited to uncover information that would plunge my imagination into the past.

Breathless, I read: "On this site in 1897, nothing happened."

I burst out laughing at this modern-day spoof of a time-honored old western tradition.

How many days do we feel as if "nothing" happened?

Do you like to make things happen?

Or do you prefer to read about things happening?

New York, No Fork, Mouth Open...uh...by the Ocean!

 (Hey, at least the title rhymes!)

My grandson (well, one of them...I've got four of the handsome little mugwumps!) got to go to New York with his high school drama team. When I wanted to commemorate his return with a picture of him behind the miniature Statue of Liberty he brought back, he obliged... with big bites of bread and chewing like a train wreck!

(Okay, I admit that a couple of weeks ago, I showed my chewed food "train wreck" to Bob, but he asked for it! No, he didn't say, "Show me what you're chewing," he just made an unsolicited food comment, which is as good as a train wreck request. So I have to entertain the possibility that my grandson comes by it honestly.) 

I had my own New York adventure as a six-year-old when I got lost at the New York World's Fair. A policeman took me to the Lost and Found with umbrellas, strollers, jackets, and one other kid whose parents came to collect him a couple of minutes after I arrived.

lt seemed like I waited for hours, definitely long enough to drink a glass of milk and eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich provided by the two ladies behind the counter. (I must have chewed with my mouth open, a la previously mentioned grandson, since I ended up with peanut butter and jelly blobs on my "I rode the monorail" sticker on my shirt.) There was enough time left after eating to wonder where I'd sleep if my family didn't claim me before nightfall. I thought I was too big for the strollers, and wasn't sure there were enough jackets to make a mattress my size.

But, voila! I was eventually claimed by my family, and rode home coloring in a coloring book until I got car sick.

(Ever since then, the smell of crayons has not been my favorite.)

What memorable trip(s) have you taken?

Christmas Sights You've Never Seen Before!

While going out and about this Christmas season, I encountered some unusual sights. 

For example, while walking through the St. George Lin's store, I saw a family dressed in onesie pajamas belly up to the ice cream bar. When I asked them about their warm and woolly get-up, they explained their Christmas Eve tradition of going out for ice cream. This year, though, the children challenged them to all go out in their NEW CHRISTMAS PAJAMAS!

What did Mom and Dad say?

Why, YES, of course!

(Wouldn't it be fun to be part of the "Onesie" family?)

I only caught a glimpse of this truck decked out in more lights than the Rockefeller Center tree. (I snapped a quick shot through the window, hence, the reflections.) I think this is a marvelous idea, as long as you obey traffic rules.

(On police radio.) Set up a roadblock for a speeding truck covered in multi-colored lights.

Sounds like a sure-fire traffic stop to me.

Have you ever seen SINGING CHRISTMAS TREES? Besides making me laugh out loud for at least five minutes, they even change mouth shapes.

See? From curvy to rectangular...

...to circles! 

After all, you can't make all the vowels by holding your lips in one shape! (Try it... I dare you!)

The sweet thing about seeing a projection of Mrs. Claus through Santa's workshop window is that my little sister who has Down syndrome exclaimed, "She's waving at me to come in! She wants me to visit her!" 

As we drove on by, I told my sister that was so nice of Mrs. Santa, but we'd have to come back later because we had more houses to see, and there were cars waiting behind us.

(I didn't say how much later we'd come back, did I?) 

Besides, how would Carolyn feel if she discovered that the jolly Mrs. Claus was just a projection? Gotta preserve the magic, people.

And for a little Christmas un-magic, I present the small-hearted Grinch, in all his hulking shadowy nefariousness.

I'm convinced that our son's cat took some Grinch lessons, as she stole a gift from beneath our tree and clawed it open on one side. 

Guess whose name was on the gift?

Why, mine, of course.

I leave you with this image of a simple, beautiful white tree on a hillside. 

Christmas is simple, after all. 

It's all about love.

I wish for you peace, happiness, and no stolen presents.

When Nature Calls, even Elves Gotta Go!

I didn't know what an Elf on the Shelf was until I visited my son's house and accidentally touched the leg of a red-suited elf hanging from a wire strung across the ceiling.

"NO!" my grandchildren screamed. "If you touch him, he'll go away!" 

Well, apparently there is a second-chance clause for uneducated Grammys. After spending a day with a bandage on his leg, Freddy was back to moving around the house at night.

(Can I lock my door?)

Here he is on the back of the toilet, poised over a cup with a bit of yellow liquid in the bottom, with the illuminating words, "Let it go, let it go, don't hold it back anymore! Hehehe. Freddy" written on the toilet lid.

(I don't know that Freddy is going to be getting any presents. Does his mama know he's writing on toilets, I wonder?)

Do you have an Elf on the Shelf? 

Do you have a similar Christmas tradition?

Unfair Shopping With Chocolate Bunnies

I wasn't there at the scene of the shopping crime. I showed up after the fact, but the evidence is pretty compelling.

Look for yourself:

Some innocent shopper with a limited budget was doing his or her best to buy something that could fall into the "healthy" category. Peas.

Fried, salted peas.

(They're still peas.)

But then, while looking for quasi-healthy avocado dip for their crisp peas, they made a wrong turn down the (dun-dun-dun) BUNNY AISLE!

Well, what else could they do but drop the peas and pick up a chocolate rabbit?

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

Fun Hats

Do you want to blend in with alley cats? Then a Cat Hat is right for you. (Not a cat IN the hat... just a Cat Hat.)

If you happen to be more into food than felines,  the ice cream hat just might be your ticket to warm and woolly paradise. (Just don't wear it in a park filled with small children. You may not make it out with all your hair.)

If you have to wear a hat, you might as well enjoy it.

My Son Made a Waterbed

My son called out, "Mom! I have a waterbed!" Knowing that the last time I checked, he most certainly did not have a waterbed, I had to go see what he was talking about. With visions of some major spill all over his mattress, I went into his room, and this is what I saw spread out on his flannel sheet:

It made me smile, too!
Have you ever had a waterbed? What do you think of them? 

It's not just what he says, it's HOW HE SAYS IT!

THIS GUY AMAZED ME! He made me laugh when I was so depressed I didn't want to leave my room (yeah, I get that way sometimes)...it's not just what he says, it's how he says it! And he made me think, "Do I want to be like him when I'm 93?" (Answer: Oh, yeah!) I challenge you to take 15 minutes to see if a 93 year old man can inspire you. (I don't necessarily mean the first couple of minutes when he tells about getting squished against a tall lady in a crowded room. It began for me with him rowing a boat at the age of 91) but you should hear him tell it!

A Dressing Room Without WHAT?

When I went to try on some clothes, I came across this most unexpected sight of a dressing room with a view.

Yes, you're seeing it right. There was no door on this particular dressing room, and no "Out of Order" sign, either.

Did they expect you to get dressed really fast so all anyone saw was a blur as you whipped off your old clothes and threw on the new?

Was there an unspoken "no looking" rule?

Was there an invisible barrier that made it LOOK like a door once someone crossed the threshold with bundles of clothes in their arms?

Perhaps this was the "bring a friend" dressing room, where someone you know, love, and hopefully trust could hold up a blanket or other large, opaque item while you tried things on, trying to finish before their arms got too tired.

Or maybe this was the dressing room for people who just didn't care who saw them in whatever state of undress they needed to accomplish their shopping in. (That makes me wonder... could anyone get arrested for indecent exposure if they were inside the confines of a designated dressing room that didn't happen to have a door?)

And why doesn't it have a door?

Ah. That leads to a whole other set of questions.

Questions are good, especially when plotting a story. If you let your mind go to the most varied ideas ever (this is the newest anti-shoplifting technique, this is a black hole to another dimension where no one uses dressing rooms) no matter how weird, then you have more material than you need to finally settle on a storyline that feels right to you. Letting your mind draw "weird" conclusions keeps your storyline from being cliche and stale.

Here's how I handle doorless dressing rooms - I almost always wear black bike shorts under everything, so I just take it all off except my bike shorts and t-shirt and try things on anyway. No waiting! No muss! No fuss! Just funny looks from other shoppers.

But I'm used to that.

What would YOU do with a doorless dressing room?

THE DREAM KEEPER

Introducing Mikey Brooks and his new "DREAM KEEPER" book!

“Dreams: Dorothy called it Oz, Alice called it Wonderland, but Nightmares call it HOME. When an evil shifter takes over the gateway to the realm of Dreams, it falls to 14-year-olds Parker and Kaelyn to stop him. Their only hope lies with Gladamyr, the Dream Keeper, but can they trust a Nightmare to save their world?”

Shirley: Hey, Mikey. I’m glad I found you. Where are we? Look at all those tall metal doors lined up like prison cells down the hallway. Is that the warden’s office? And what’s that smell? Is someone boiling cow intestines?
Mikey: What, you don’t recognize the sweating hands and the feeling of people judging your every movement? We’re in middle school, Shirley.
Shirley: Ahhh! Why are we back here? I’m not thirteen again, am I? Stop poking me, Mikey, or I’ll stomp on your foot! You'd better watch out because I got a black eye in middle school from trying to chase an annoying boy who was whipping me with a long plastic tube. I would have swung him up against the lockers if I could have gotten my hands on him, but instead I fell and smacked my face on the floor. I think I achieved Loser status as soon as I hit the ground.
Mikey: You’re a loser? Now that’s hard to believe. I, on the other hand, was the poor, fat kid with bad acne—or was that high school? No wait, high school I was the geeky drama student that hummed show tunes.
Shirley: Okay, I can’t just stand here. Someone might sneak up behind me and stick a dead bird in my hair. (Yes, that really happened.) Come on, let’s go down this hall. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel. So what was your inspiration for writing this book?
Mikey: It came from a dream…well, sort of. I was trying to fall asleep and wished there was someone who could just escort me to Dreams and all of a sudden the idea just popped into my head. I wanted it to take place in middle school because this book is about nightmares and middle school was a nightmare for me. What, you too? I had no idea. Ugh! Do you smell that?
Shirley: I think something died down here, just like the road-killed toad I found in my middle school locker. (Also true). No wonder! We’re standing next to the gym. I said, stop poking me! Let’s head for the science room. You go first. No, I insist. You can’t poke me if you’re in front of me. Tell me about your characters. Fyren and Gladamyr… they’re not names I hear every day.
Mikey: Well Fyren and Gladamyr aren’t from our world, they are from the realm of Dreams. Yeah, that place you went to every time you entered history class. Yeah, I had a habit of falling asleep in math class, too. Anyway, Fyren is an evil nightmare and Gladamyr is the dream keeper trying to stop him from taking over our world and enslaving all mankind.
Shirley: Speaking of nightmares, here comes the science teacher, Mr. Anderson. He looks like he thinks we’re a couple of losers. Let’s just smile and… (Ahem) No, sir, we’re not lost. Yes, sir, we know that there are no students in the hallway between classes, but we’re not…(Mikey! I said stop poking me! I warned you!) * stomp * Oh… Mr. Anderson… I’m sorry! I was aiming for Mikey’s foot! Are you okay? Uh, oh, Mikey, Mr. Anderson’s morphing into something not human! RUN!
Mikey: (pant, pant) Did I forget to mention that Fyren is a shifter and can turn into anything?
Shirley: I think we’re safe. Mr. Anderson...or whatever that thing is... won’t be able to catch up to us with his sore foot. Wow, talk about déjà vu. This same thing happened to me while I was in middle school.
Mikey: You just stomped your foot on the bad guy Shirley! He IS NOT a nice guy! He gets pleasure out of hearing the horrified screams of children! Great. Now he is going to morph into some kind of monster and try to kill us. Or he’ll send one of his cronies. Please don’t let him send the clown with the rubber chickens. Yes, clowns freak me out! What? I keep poking you because you have a gianormous sign on your back that says “POKE ME!”
Shirley: That makes total sense, now take it off, will ya? Whoa, Mikey, this place is weird. I think it’s your fault. You’re the one who wrote the book. What genre is it?
Mikey: It’s a fantasy-adventure…duh. Why else would we be running from nightmares trying to rip off our faces? You mean people tried to rip your face off in middle school too? Where did you go to school, Alcatraz? Oh no! Nightmares are flooding the hallway. We need to get the heck out of here!
Shirley: Hey, those doors leads outside! I hope they’re not locked. (Sproing!) Wow, we made it. Doesn't it feel good to breathe fresh air? Mikey? What are you staring at? Who are those big people holding huge, hard rubber balls? What?! Opposing dodge ball teams? (Whoosh, thump plop.) (Groan) Where am I? What am I doing down here?
Mikey: We were talking about my book, and out of nowhere a pelican crashed into your head. The bird is okay, but you went down like a rock. No, leave the feathers, they go great with the flowers in your hair. No one is going to think you look like a loser. What, do you think we’re in middle school?

THE DREAM KEEPER is a middle-grade adventure novel with a toe in both the real world and the fantastic, and is available in Print and eBook. For more information visit http://insidemikeysworld.com/

 Mikey Brooks is a small child masquerading as adult. On occasion you’ll find him dancing the funky chicken, singing like a banshee, and pretending to have never grown up. He is the author/illustrator of several books including BEAN’S DRAGONS, the ABC ADVENTURES series, and the middle-grade fantasy-adventure novel, THE DREAM KEEPER. He spends most of his time playing with his daughters and working as a freelance illustrator. Mikey has a BS degree in Creative Writing from Utah State University. He is also one of the hosts of the Authors’ Think Tank Podcast.

AUTHOR LINKS:

Website: http://www.insidemikeysworld.com/

Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/Mikey-Brooks/e/B00B8ICZ4W

Blog: http://writtenbymikey.blogspot.com/

Podcast: http://www.foreverwriters.com/category/podcast/

Goodreads at: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17727253-the-dream-keeper  

Facebook at: http://facebook.com/writtenbymikeybrooks

Twitter as: @writtenbymikey

WattPad: http://wattpad.com/MikeyBrooks

BOOK LINKS:

Hardback: http://www.amazon.com/Dream-Keeper-Mikey-Brooks/dp/1939993016

Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1939993032

Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/The-Dream-Keeper-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B00CPE0PT0

Paperback Create Space: https://www.createspace.com/4260677

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17727253-the-dream-keeper

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1115262781?ean=9781939993014

EXCERPT FROM BOOK:

Parker was about to assassinate the general of the goblin army. It wasn’t murder, it was an assignment. He tried to justify what he was about to do as he jumped from the rooftop and landed just above the battlement wall. It was the perfect spot to scout the camp. The goblins filling the keep were everywhere, sharpening blades and axes or gathering weapons for the impending battle. Parker noticed a large troll in the right hand corner of the space below, hammering solidly on a sword large enough to split three men into six. He spotted his target.

The general of the goblin army was a large brute with golden braids hanging down his chest. He was the one who had ordered the burning of Parker’s home village. The one who had ordered the death of Parker’s family and friends. This monster, this villain, was the reason Parker had set out on his journey to seek vengeance upon the unjust. This was the creature responsible for Parker swearing allegiance to the Mightercore army, who quickly gave him the role of assassin-scout.

Parker maneuvered his way down the wall, careful not to move too fast or his invisibility cloak would lose its power. He placed his foot in one crevice, then his hand in another. After a few moments of skilled climbing, Parker found himself precariously positioned just behind the golden haired brute, leaving only a small distance between him and his foe. In a quick session tactic, Parker could ignite his blade with the magic of the Mightercore and his target would be no more. He positioned himself to strike, raising his sword and whispering the incantation that would release the blade’s power—.

“Parker.”

He ignored whoever was calling his name; they did not matter. All he saw was the villain before him. The completed spell ignited Parker’s sword with a blazing haze of blue fire, and he had to act fast.

“Parker!”

The loud call startled him and he swung too late. The goblin general had already turned and he struck, forcing Parker back against the rocky battlements. Parker parried the attack and thrust forward with a low slash. The general sidestepped and lunged forward again. Parker parried and rolled away from the wall. A lightning spell was the only magic he had left. If he could find enough time to call out the incantation, he could have the general radiating electrons from every appendage.

He rolled until he was a good ten feet from his opponent, then quickly stood. Lifting his hand into the air, he called down the lightning. The sky filled with a brilliant white light, and the crack of thunder reverberated off the walls. Parker briefly closed his eyes then opened them, praying he had hit his target. As the white dust began to clear, he made out an image before him. He peered at it, his heart thumping.

The screen went black.

“Parker, I’ve called you three times. Now get off that machine and go do your homework.”

(Mikey ends this message with the chilling two words: "Sweet dreams!")

Forgetful Memory Foam

I took the challenge when my employer, Ephraim City, (for my Story Time job) began a fitness program for its employees. The person who walks the farthest in a month receives a cash prize, so with Christmas sitting on the horizon, I've been walking and walking and walking. (Stepping in place counts.) To my reckoning, I've walked over 500 miles in three weeks. (There's mileage compensation for about a hundred activities such as bike riding, swimming, housework, and raking leaves, too. Unfortunately, no mileage is allowed for eating. I can't figure that out.)

In my enthusiasm, I have been stepping in place while cooking, putting on makeup, waiting in checkout lines and any other time I find myself vertical. (My husband calls my energetic stepping "the pee-pee dance." I'm not sharing any of my prize money with him.) My writing place is at my piano, which is tall enough for me use my laptop on, but unfortunately, it's in a room with a hard wooden floor. To compensate for leg and foot fatigue, I've been stepping on a memory foam mat (I still get leg fatigue, just not as soon) yet it appears that I've stepped all the memory out of it. (See pad above left.) The un-stomped pad on the right still has the lofty softness that endears it to my feet, but the other one is like stepping on a plan old flat towel.

I wonder if the company is aware that their memory foam forgets after 500 miles?  

TAG! You're IT!

I was only trying to be nice when I moved forward one row at church to whisper to a lady, "I can see the tag on the back of your shirt. Unless that's the new style, it might be on backwards."
"Oh, dear," the white-haired lady said, pulling her sweater from the back of her seat up over her shoulders.
"Don't worry," I assured her. "I put my shirt on inside out yesterday and didn't know it until my sister told me."
"Honestly," the woman said, hunching herself smaller. "I need a keeper."
"No, you don't," I assured her. "I do it all the time. I button my buttons wrong, too."
She was too immersed in her embarrassment to say anything.
I assure you, if you ever see my shirt on inside out, I'd like to know about it. The same goes for food in my teeth, dog poo on my shoe, and any length of toilet paper trailing out the back of my clothes. I mean, if you're my friend, you're not going to let me wander in public like that, are you?
This incident reminds me of the time I went to speak as a professional author. I sat waiting for my turn, smiling and happy to be there, when a lady leaned over and said, "Your dress is unzipped." It was a side zipper, so I quickly slid it upward just before they called my name.
"I'm so excited to be asked to speak," I said into the microphone. "I was equally excited that my dress felt kind of loose, which meant I'd lost a few extra pesky pounds. Then I discovered my dress was unzipped. When I zipped it up, there went all my weight loss. But I'm still happy to be here."
I suppose we could solve the inside out clothes problem by stuffing our closets with that nifty reversible clothing! Then the only thing I'd have to worry about is putting my shirt on upside down!
Would you be embarrassed if someone told you your shirt was inside out or backwards?

At the Zoo...

Sometimes writers need to take a fresh perspective, a new approach, an unexpected tack.
When my family went to the zoo, certain animals were more visible through plexiglass windows than over their enclosure railings. Guess what I saw at the rhino pen? Aw, how did you know?
I can't help it that this view really struck my fancy. Some people think it, but I go ahead and say it. I had to take a picture with my phone because the guy holding the fancy-pants camera didn't appreciate my subject matter. But, hey, why fight it if something resonates with the funny bone in my twistedly creative mind? (And, may I add, I'm not the only person on the planet with funny bones in the brain!) You've got to admit that this is a classic composition. I simply couldn't resist!
What is hard for you to resist?

Bowling Alley Funnies

More than just for rolling the odd strike, who knew a bowling alley could be so much fun? First of all, our local establishment lost its distinctive and far superior name, "The Cow Palace Lanes" when it changed ownership. "Sno-cap Lanes?" Come on, where's the imagination there? And it isn't even spelled right!
While there, I browsed the list of bowling teams hand-written on a sheet of paper tacked to the wall. I was delighted to find, "Dolls with Balls." Now there are some gals who know how to laugh.
Half-time entertainment for our bowling game came in the form of a 2-year-old boy who ran down the bowling lane as fast as his 12-inch legs would take him. His father, a quick thinker, took off after his son, his feet pounding in the gutters so as not to mar the bowling lane finish. He managed to catch the little lad more than halfway down the lane. Good thing, too, as the boy wasn't much taller than a bowling pin.
Last of all was the man who stopped in front of the mens' restroom door. Yes, there was a mens' room sign posted. Yet the guy walked over to the ladies' restroom door to read the sign, "Ladies" before moving back to the mens room and pushing his way inside.
Could he not decide?
Or wasn't he sure?

The Power of the Crone

Sometimes you feel pretty, sometimes you feel old, sometimes you feel pretty old - especially when falling from a full speed run down the road, skidding across the blacktop, scraping shoulder, hip, and knee. It's rib-cracking good fun, I tell ya (from 2-day-ago experience!) I just thank my lucky stars for a really WIDE elastic wrap around my rib cage.
According to experts, I'm passing out of my crone year tomorrow. (Now I can say I've been there, done that.) What comes after "crone," I'd like to know? "Ultra-crone?" (If ultra-crones look like this one, where do I sign up?)
Actually, I read a paper in one of my college classes that said crones are wise. Crones are strong. Crones should be revered.
So bring me chocolate and a pillow to put my feet up on, and I'll tell everyone what to do!
What do you think of crones?

Was it my Forehead Tattoo?

My 11-year-old son opened a package of temporary tattoos and eagerly sifted through the contents. Then he looked up and me and asked, "Should I put one on my forehead?"
"Sure!"
"No, I don't dare."
"I do."
Eyes wide, he asked, "Really, Mom? You'd really let me put a tattoo on your forehead?"
"Yeah," I said, lifting up my bangs. I chose the girl tattoo, knowing he'd never use it. You might think that my bangs would hide the tattoo, but, no, more than one person asked me what had happened to my head.
Then came the phone call..."Hello?" I answered on the second ring.
"Is this mental counseling?" asked a male voice.
"No. What number were you calling?"
He rattled off my home phone number. "I found this listed on the Internet under 'mental counseling'," he explained.
"I'm sorry, it's the wrong number," I said. I hung up and caught sight of myself in a mirror, tattoo and all. Maybe the Internet was trying to tell me something.
Would YOU ever wear a tattoo on your head? (My seventeen year old said that some people get PAID to wear advertising tattoos! There's a career path for you.)

Kids say the darnedest things

Kids are so funny!
I overheard one little guy say, "I've got a camel head in my backyard!"
A kindergarten girl said, "Sorry doesn't help when you bit my neck!"
Another little girl walked up to me with a dreamy look on her face and said, "I just got unpoisoned... where am I?"
I had to pull out my notepad... what a great story starter! You never know when they'll pop up!

Out of the mouths... and other ends... of Babes

I was reading a book while babysitting my four-year-old grandson Connor. When the book was done, he said, "That story was ridiclious! Sometimes my daddy reads a book with just his mouth. Can you read a book just with your mouth?"
I wanted to say, "Where do you think your daddy got it?" but figured he wouldn't understand. So I told read him a book with just my mouth.
He topped it a short time later, though, when we were playing super heros. Connor popped up from where he hid behind his family's coffee table and pointed to his nearly 2-year-old brother. "Landon is a super dog named Jacob, and he shoots fireballs out of his butt."
I could tell he'd been in on some memorable diaper changes. I will be better off if I view all tasks, no matter how unpleasant, with a more Connor-ish point of view!