The Required Amount at the Prescribed Rate (Handcrafted From the Finest Corinthian Leather)
Sweet Dreams Are Probably Not Made Of This
Last Wednesday night, when I checked on my children to make sure they were tucked into bed, doing some reading before lights out, I found my younger son reading a large age-inappropriate biology text . . . and he was studying-up on vampire bats -- there was a photo of a vampire bat sucking on the teat of a cow and several repulsive close-ups of squashed vespertilion faces and pointy vespertilion incisors -- and so I gave him a kiss on the forehead and made a quick exit . . . I don't need to look at stuff like that before bed . . . and then I crossed the hall to check on my other son, and he was reading a book called Gross Body Facts and he told me he was looking for the chapter about "stinky armpits" and I pretended to be proud of his curiosity and inquisitive disposition, and then beat feet out of his room as well . . . and I am happy to report that neither child had a nightmare . . . nor did I (but my children never have nightmares . . . even after catching giant spiders and then reading books about giant spiders . . . which makes me wonder if they are actually part spider; that would explain a lot).
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A New Sentence Every Day, Hand Crafted from the Finest Corinthian Leather.
5 comments:
I'm mercifully still at the point where my son wants to read books you can touch-n-feel.
how does he like 'go the fuck to sleep'?
He only likes it when read by Jules Winfield.
who is jules winfield? why am i always googling zman's comments? it's never worth it . . .
ah . . . that jules winnfield. perhaps it was worth it.
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