Belated Writin Wednesday

I'm all kinds of jacked up this week. Babysitter's gone for 3 weeks, Jim's gone for 3 days, it's been 90 day-grees the last few days and I think I've got The Fever. You give me fever. Oh yeah, fever all through the night. That song's hot. ha ha ha. See? See how jacked up? It's just downright embarrassing.

Madeleine's playing with her monstrous collection of ponies right now and apparently two of them are having a fight. Here is the transcription:

[Ligats and Zell are leading a line of 30 to 100 ponies through the Valley of Death]

Ligats: "Come on! We gotta get out of here! We're lost."
Zell: "No we're not. Let's just stay together and do the right thing. Hey! You two in the back, quit fighting!"

[grabs two brown ponies with black tails named Bambi and Merno]

Bambi: "Leave me alone, you bunzy!"
Merno: "You're a bunzy!"
Bambi: "Twig tail!"
Merno: "Big legs!"
Bambi: "Twisty neck!"
Merno: "Narrow average back!"
Bambi: "That wasn't very nice."
Merno: "I know, I'm sorry."
Bambi: "That's okay. Help me with my fishing pole."

Now where she gets that kind of language, I'm not sure, but we're going to have to have a talk with her preschool teacher. We just can't have that in this house.

Here's my Writin from last night:

Randy's a Baby

Me and Randy got caught cussin on the jungle gym today. Prissface told on us. I hate her. The Principal said she wouldn’t call my mom or Randy’s parents if we went straight to our class and told Mrs. Dolan. And then before we were even around the corner to B-Hall Randy was snuffing. So I walked faster. Randy’s rain boots were kalumping and my tennis shoes were squeaky and squishy sounding. The hall was real quiet like when you get a hall pass to go to the bathroom. But it was different kind of. Usually you can hear talking in the other classes. Today it was real empty because I was walking down an empty hall and didn’t have no pass. I could run if I wanted to. I could even litter. It must be how teachers feel when they walk down the hall because hey can do whatever they want, teachers can.

I decided then and turned around fast to Randy who was so slow. “We just won’t tell. We don’t have to.”

And you know what, he was way back by the 2nd graders room. “What?” He kind of hopped to go faster. Boy his boots were too big. I turned back around and walked and he grabbed my sleeve and whispered, “Whadda you mean not tell? Mrs. Winkler said go straight to our room and tell Mrs. Dolan! I don’t want to get in trouble. My dad, he’s – he’ll – we’d get in big trouble!” he said.

He’s short like me and his breath smelled like peanut butter and it was right in my face. He wiped his nose on his arm and it made a shiny streak on his cheek.

Anyway we didn’t have to whisper because there was nobody. “Listen,” I said and I could tell he was listening real good, “Mrs. Dolan will never know. We’ll just go in and do Lippencot like nothins wrong.”

I pulled my arm away and stared at him hard, seeing if he’d say anything, but he didn’t. He just breathed at me with all that peanut butter so we went into the classroom and acted extra normal, even though there were ten minutes left of recess and Randy hated the Lippencot reader. Mrs. Dolan just watched us, kinda smilling. See, I had fixed everything and when Randy passed me a note later during times tables I checked the No box because I won’t go with him anymore. He’s a baby.