I was determined to send postcards, because getting postcards is the most awesome thing in the Universe and probably adds up to 42 in some complicated numerological way.
Therefore, when I went to Forbidden Caverns (north of Sevierville Tennessee) I purchased some, which I wrote, there in the parking lot. The only thing that remained was to get to a postoffice, WHICH, since it was a weekday and the Republicans haven’t completely finished gutting essential government services yet, was open. I even did that. Yay, me.
Stalactite forming, Forbidden Caverns, Tennessee
When I came in there was a fellow talking to the clerk, accompanied by two tiny little blond boys, the elder of whom was doing the “potty dance.”
Elder, in this case, being, like, 3 years old. I alerted Dad and tried to distract them, talking about the Cars movie, until they went out and I purchased my stamps and mailed my cards.
When I came out into the lobby he was still there, and the older boy was crying, holding himself.
By God, he hadn’t peed yet, though. SUCH courage.
i asked Dad if I could take him out to water a bush. Got permission, which, frankly, surprised me more than anything, and took him out and gave him the go-ahead (if you’ll pardon the expression.) That kid had to go. I, with more practice and a bigger bladder, would have been in agony.
I told him what a SUPER DELUXE AWESOME BIG BOY JOB he’d done and returned him to Dad.
There are such small things you can do in the world. For the record, little boy, I know you’re being raised partially by a fireman in Tennessee, who seems to be somewhat behind the curve, as regards child development, and I don’t know what challenges you’ll face. I hope this was the worst one, and it’s clear sailing from here. The nice lady who helped you was a heathen liberal from the North. When someone tells you they’re bad, well, we’re not. I’ll be holding the good thought for you.
And, two pieces of advice.
Don’t panic, little dude. And carry your towel.
Happy Towel Day.
somedaysislikethat 