Archive - November, 2009

Angels Unawares (by Billy Coffey)


Over the years the day after Thanksgiving has become a holiday of its own sort in our house—we call it Time To Haul The Christmas Stuff Out Of The Attic Day. It’s just as festive and exhausting as Thanksgiving. Just as messy, too. But this yearly ritual serves its own purpose, and that’s to unwrap a little magic to offset the drabness that can accompany November in Virginia. And sometimes, many times, I manage to unwrap some wisdom, too.

For instance.

By my count there are seventeen angels on my Christmas tree. Each are unique from the others in sort of a heavenly snowflake kind of way—tall and short, baby and adult, ceramic and paper. Some are new, products of last year’s Christmas-is-over-and-no-one-bought-this sale at the Hallmark store. Others, like the ragged piece of felt with one wing and half a halo, have been around since I was in elementary school.

Our angels don’t simply grace the tree, though. They also flutter above our nativity scene, adorn our dinner plates, and stand guard in our front yard. These, too, have their tiny differences. Some are playing harps or blowing horns. Some sing. And some simply stand there with a stately and calm demeanor as if they have something important to say if I just took the time to listen.

But regardless of what these decorations look like or what they’re doing, one thing is supremely obvious—they’re angels, and there’s no mistaking them.

Others aren’t so easy to spot.

I was putting the finishing touches on the tree Friday afternoon when I spotted something a bit odd. I pulled a Winnie-the-Pooh ornament out of the box and found it was not Pooh at all. One of the two miniature Coffeys in the house had evidently disrobed his trademark red shirt and dressed angel number eighteen with it. I left the shirt on and hung the angel on the back of the tree where no one would notice, and forgot about it.

I went upstairs to write a while after that, first taking the time to go through a few emails. One was a continuing conversation that originated the day before by one of my online friends, who had taken a small part of her Thanksgiving Day to send a note of appreciation to a dozen or so of our shared acquaintances.

The email bounced back and forth between all of us and seemed to settle on this one question—was what we all shared really considered friendship? It was a valid question. By and large we were all separated by hundreds and even thousands of miles. Few of us had ever met, never even heard each other’s voices. Our interaction was limited to blogs, Twitter, Facebook, and email. We were words and avatars more than flesh and blood.

The consensus was that yes, we did share a friendship. Location and means of communication didn’t seem to matter. What mattered was what was said and when.

That’s when I remembered the angel dressed as Winnie-the-Pooh. And when I realized what a real angel was.

If you read the Old Testament in the original Hebrew (and I don’t), you’d find that the word for angel is mal’ach—messenger. No surprise there. But look a little deeper and you’ll find that word also used for anyone delivering any message. The thought is an amazing one. You don’t have to be a supernatural being to be an angel. You can be anyone.

I looked back over all those emails and realized everyone had been wrong, at least when it came to me. Because I don’t see angels just at Christmastime, I see them on a daily basis. These men and women whom I’ve never met and never heard are more than friends, they’re my angels. They encourage me when I’m doubtful, make me laugh when I don’t want to, and lift me up in prayer. They’ve given me more help than I could possibly say. There are other angels, too. Ones who take the time not only to read the rambling words that pop out of my head, but leave a comment or two behind. Or who email me just to say thanks for making them laugh or think or even shed a tear.

It seems pretty appropriate, then, that in this tiny window of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas I give thanks for my angels. We’re blessed every day, not so much with big things that matter much, but with small things that matter more. Which just might be why we’re called in the coming weeks to worship a child, the smallest among us.

And which is also why I went back downstairs soon thereafter, took the disguised angel from the back of the tree, and hung it on the front.

Where everyone would notice.

***

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

Have you ever had one of those days?


Long weekends are wonderful — especially if you are fortunate to be able to spend them with family and friends.

But have you ever mentally skipped a day? That’s what happened to me last night. I had somehow convinced myself that today was Monday instead of Sunday.

I’m not sure what that means (besides I’m a bit of a scatter-brain at times), but after I finish typing this post I’ll start getting ready for church, where I will praise God for another day. A day I absentmindedly tried to skip over.

Happy Sunday, y’all!

A Trip to Sam’s Club Part 2 – God is watching us, and so is everyone else (Repost)


Just a quick note before today’s post – Billy Coffey posted The Ten Dollar Challenge on his blog yesterday. If you haven’t had a chance to, would you hop over there and read it? We’re still working out the details, but there will be an opportunity for everyone who would like to participate to link their blogs both here and on What I Learned Today.

(To read Part One, go here: A Trip to Sam’s Club).
Have you ever been shopping at a large store and see the same shopper or shoppers numerous times in the course of your trip? I had been in Sam’s for maybe 5 minutes when I noticed a good looking young father with 2 young children. I suppose I noticed him because I typically don’t see men shopping with their kids and without their wives (with the notable exception of 7:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve). He also caught my attention because he was wearing a graphic t-shirt that said “Redeemed” and was sporting a faux-hawk. Here I am shopping for communion cups and looking forward to church the next day. Did that help form a presumption about this guy? I don’t know. But I remember thinking to myself, “I bet he’s a youth pastor or a worship leader.”
The next time I saw him and his kids, he was patiently telling his cute and talkative 5 year old daughter that she could not get any cookies on this trip. “Yeah, he’s definitely in ministry — he’s so sweet to his kids!” I saw them once more before I was ready to check out. I pulled my cart up to one of maybe seven open registers, and guess who pulls up behind me in line? You guessed it — Mr. Fauxhawk. At this point, I’m feeling some connection with this little family — what with us all being Christians and whatnot. I attempted to start a conversation with him a couple of times (no doubt impressing him by my keen observational skills in surmising that he was, in fact, a pastor of some sort), but by this time his kids were getting tired and beginning to complain a bit. He wasn’t quite as sweet, but his patience was still in check. I decided to leave him alone.
So here’s where it gets weird. I’m out in the parking lot loading up my groceries, when directly across the aisle from me I spot the same sweet little threesome getting into their car (with a Christian sticker on the back windshield). “Okay, God”, I thought, “am I supposed to go introduce myself to them or what?” I began to approach the car as dad was attempting to buckle his kids up in their car seats. What I heard next literally stopped me in my tracks. Had I been two aisle over instead of just a few feet away, I still would have heard this young father screaming at his son, “Get your G** D*** legs in the car!” I’m guessing that if he had looked up at that moment and seen my jaw hanging open, he might have ended his tirade. Unfortunately for his kids, he did not. After slamming the door on his son’s side, he walked over to the daughter’s side and could only manage a closed mouth, guttural scream before slamming her door. He got behind the wheel and took off quickly. At this point, I am still standing behind my jeep, jaw open and head spinning. “How could I have been so wrong about this guy? He’s obviously not in ministry!”
But maybe he is. Maybe he was just having an extraordinarily bad day. Maybe his wife walked out on him and his kids. Not that there’s any excuse for screaming obscenities at you kids. You just don’t do that — ever. Having experienced that little scenario firsthand on numerous occasions, let me just tell you: YOU NEVER WANT TO DO THAT. It terrifies them. It rocks their world. Don’t ever do that.
I sat in my car for several minutes, ignoring the melting frozen items in the back and just prayed. I think a more accurate analogy would be that I was pleading with God to protect the children, convict the father and make things right.

Maybe this guy was in ministry, maybe not. He certainly looked the part. But he certainly served as a big object lesson for me.

Lesson 1: Since my pastor is also a close friend, I actually thought that I had overcome my tendency to put ministers on a high pedestals. Clearly I have some work to do. Our pastors and teachers ARE held to a higher standard — that’s biblical. But they are human. Even if you attend church every Sunday, chances are that you have no idea what a minister and his staff deal with every other day of the week: infidelity, broken marriages, abuse, neglect, addictions, church politics, illness, death, grief, money issues – the list goes on and on. It’s only by the Grace of God and their faith that they don’t become completely overwhelmed by it all. Sadly, many do and succumb to the same temptations the rest of us struggle with. Others simply walk away from the ministry.

Lesson 2: If you are a Christian, the world will judge you by what you do more than what you do not do; not by what you say or what you profess. Like Vince Antonucci says, “We’ve got to be the good news before we share the good news. Otherwise, the message has no integrity.” (I’m paraphrasing, forgive me if that’s not an exact quote.) You can rattle off Matthew, Mark, Luke and John and tell someone how Jesus saved you from the burning pits of hell, but if you get in your car and then cut them off in traffic, not only are you an a**hole, but you may have just added to the legions of people who turn away from God because of the people who claim to serve Him.

Thankful for the Twitter

You would think with getting my house ready for guests and Thanksgiving, I wouldn’t have much time to be on the twitter. And you would be wrong…

The best of me (or not) on the twitter:

@PeterPollock Wow. I think you’ve been hanging around me too long. Either that or you’ve been hitting the box wine early. (in reply to @katdish well… @DaleChumbley managed to RT it… but I guess it takes a man to skillfully shorten a tweet!)

@PeterPollock Thanks Peter. I would RT it, but it’s too many characters.

We haven’t eaten yet! I’m so hungry, I could eat my own cooking…

@CandySteele The goose is arriving in a couple of hours. Year 44 of NOT cooking a turkey and counting.

@Helenatrandom “beef tongue” and “delightful” should never be used together in a sentence.

@Helenatrandom Bet @bryanallain isn’t THAT hungry…

RT @Helenatrandom: @bryanallain I have a great recipe for beef tongue…//GAAAAAA!!!!!

@bryanallain When are you NOT hungry, Bryan?

Also known as the “McKnuckle” RT @MattTCoNP: Just as I’m starting to have some self esteem, McDonald’s announces McRib is back!

Gotta go walk the dog. (Not a euphemism)

@MattTCoNP Oh, Matt. You always sound grumpy.

@MattTCoNP Good morning, Matt! Getting your grump on early this morning?

RT @joannamuses: RT @FakeAPStylebook: For balance, Thanksgiving articles should also contain quotes from devastated turkey families.

@CandySteele Answer: “And I get to use my offset spatula”. Question: Name a phrase katdish would never say.

RT @marni71: @prodigaljohn dude, dial down your freak magnet.

Oh wait. Let me poke them with a stick. They love that. http://twitpic.com/qs4nw

Fire ants in November. Try not to be jealous. http://twitpic.com/qs4he

@sarahmsalter oh Sarah, you’re such a girl. (in reply to @katdish EEEEWWWWW!)

@PuriChristos it was already dead. But I did chop up a big one with a riding lawn mower once. It was awesome. Thunk, thunk, THUNK! (in reply to @katdish What did you do?)

Dead baby snake http://twitpic.com/qs359

Merry Christmas Buddy Love! http://twitpic.com/qrve1

Note to self: You are too old to sit criss-cross applesauce for long periods of time.

Or is that “blogging”? I’m so confused…

Now I gotta go back to “writing”…

I’m off to get a haircut then see about renting a bulldozer to clean my kids’ rooms.

@JeanneDamoff Snort! (in reply to @katdish @heathersunseri @billeycoffey The Dread Pirate Coffey works, but I have dibs on The Dread Pirate Roberta. (I also have the pants.)

@billycoffey What about The Dread Pirate Coffey?

@HeatherSunseri Biff, huh? Well, whatever you do, don’t call him Bill.

@HeatherSunseri He’s a fancy redneck.

@JeanneDamoff Just the shoes. I can’t tell you where the witch is until the statutes of limitations has expired. (in reply to @katdish Does your dead potted plant wear red polka-dotted shoes? Or did it land on the wicked witch of the west? Mysteries abound.)

Squirrel? http://twitpic.com/qn6t1

Having company this week. Guess I should put a new plant on the front porch. http://twitpic.com/qn69j

@marni71 I know. Everyone wants to support “your vision”, just as long as you do it their way.

@Helenatrandom My Sweet Helen! How I’ve missed you!

@CandySteele Who me? Never. But I come from a long line of squeaky, loud, obnoxious wheels. (in reply to @katdish you say that like you have experience.)

@redclaydiaries Remember: Squeaky, loud, obnoxious wheel! (in reply to @sarahmsalter @katdish @CandySteele @billycoffey et al, I’m ok w snakes &/or spiders. Hi & Bye. Off to see doctor. AGAIN. C U l8r)

@sarahmsalter Has Charlotte’s Web taught us nothing?

For those of you put off by the picture on my post today, be glad I didn’t post this one: http://bit.ly/56b6yR

@PuriChristos The monkey spider airplane tweet.

@PuriChristos What the heck are you talking about? Did you forget your meds this morning?

@redclaydiaries It was the grocery store sushi references I’m sure.

@redclaydiaries and Belgium of course…

@redclaydiaries Well that explains why I’ve only had two hits from China! They love me in Japan!

@PeterPollock Snort! Good one… (in reply to @katdish Aww, you haven’t called me that in a while!)

@PeterPollock Oh, shut up. You know what I’m talking about. (in reply to @katdish What time machine book has your daughter read?)

@JanetOber The only thing you should eat from a gas station is a fried burrito with ketchup, and then only from Allsups.

@PeterPollock Everytime I mention “the book”, my daughter says, Oooo! The time machine book? I LOVE that book!

@PeterPollock Well, they do share a fondness for black cowboy hats.

@PeterPollock Who is Trace Adkins?

RT @PeterPollock: My daughter just saw a picture of Trace Adkins and asked “Is that @billycoffey?”

@unmarketing Well then, I’m doing it right. (in reply to @katdish by not asking people to validate their existence)

@unmarketing so how do you do it right? (in reply to If ur using TrueTwit validation to make ppl verify they’re a real person, ur doing it wrong. And ur unfollowed now)

@sarahmsalter it’s not that I can’t cook, I just don’t like to. If it was up to me we would eat sandwiches all the time.

@CandySteele I’m too lazy to do that. I don’t like chopping stuff either. Or cooking. I’m pretty much worthless in the kitchen.

“these French fries taste like salty potatoes.” – my daughter

@RobinMArnold her teacher said she knew something was up when she asked her how to spell diarrhea.

@noveldoctor Ooo! Can I be one of your minions? I’ll have family over, but they’ll be in a tryptophan coma by 3ish… (in reply to FYI: While everyone in America is tripping on tryptophan next Thurs, I’m plotting a takeover of Twitter.

@br8kthru I wouldn’t know… (in reply to @katdish neither does being humble. 🙂

@llbarkat being right never gets old.

RT @llbarkat: Well @katdish will be happy about the cover. Hoping you will be too http://tinyurl.com/yaggtoc

@HeatheroftheEO I’m been hearing that a lot lately. But I know better…YOU CAIN’T QUIT ME!

RT @redclaydiaries: @katdish GET OFF MY BACK. Thank you. //Just trying to help you help me.

@redclaydiaries My inbox is seriously lacking in an email from you…

Bunnies can’t cook turkey…

And neither can I, but I’m a pretty good dancer…

Thanksgiving 2009 marks the 44th consecutive year I have NOT cooked a turkey. Just lucky, I guess.

Thank you all for stopping by my silly little blog time and time again. Especially when you’re never quite sure what you’re in for once you get here. And while I’m rarely at a loss for words, I find myself struggling to convey what an incredible blessing this experience has been – from the friendships I have made to the doors that have opened up. It’s really quite mind boggling.

I pray you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving Day. I’m so very grateful for you. Not kidding…

Thanksgiving and Prayer

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart; for whether I am in chains or defending and confirming the gospel, all of you share in God’s grace with me. God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus.

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.

-Philippians 1:3-11

Christmas Change

live the gospel

Today’s guest blogger is (drum roll please….)

Me!

Okay, actually I’ve written a post for a very special blog called Christmas Change. If you haven’t paid a visit over there yet, please take time to do so. They’ve got quite an impressive list of contributors and I know you will be blessed. How’d I get on the list? Beats me…

What’s Christmas Change all about? I’m glad you asked:

“Our goal with ChristmasChange.com will be to encourage churches, families, and individuals to pursue a lifestyle of giving, that our families would acknowledge Christ as the center and restore the wonder of His coming by embodying Him as we feed the poor and give our time as lavishers of love and receivers of grace. Isn’t that what Christmas is really about?”

So what’s my post about? Well, Santa Claus, of course…

Click here, and I’ll meet your over there, M’kay?

And just in case we miss each other, I want to wish you all a very happy and blessed Thanksgiving!

Be Bold


(Okay, so technically this image isn’t a “perfect fit” for this post, but COME ON! That’s just funny right there…)

“What has influenced my life more than any single thing has been my stammer. Had I not stammered…I would have probably gone to Cambridge as my brothers did, perhaps have become a don and every now and then published a dreary book about French literature.”

-W. Somerset Maugham (novelist, playwright and short story writer; notable works: Of Human Bondage, The Razor’s Edge, The Letter and Rain)

Much emphasis and broo-ha-ha is given to the pursuit of overcoming personal obstacles; of achieving goals despite one’s shortcomings and/or lot in life. Who doesn’t love a story of someone overcoming the odds and emerging victorious? I know I do.

But sometimes I think these stories – while certainly inspirational and encouraging – may serve as unintentional road blocks to pursuing our dreams, or we think that once we achieve one desired goal the rest of our lives will fall into place.

Fill in the blank:

If only I could _____________ then _____________.

Once I ___________ then I’ll be able to _____________.

Here’s my challenge to you. Don’t use your limitations as excuses for pursuing your dreams. You may just find the very thing you thought was holding you back wasn’t really an issue in the first place.

I know this is a busy week for many of us, so I’ll leave you with just a few more quotes to ponder:

“When the resolute young fellow steps up to the great bully, the world, and takes him boldly by the beard, he is often surprised to find it comes off in his hand, and that it was only tied on to scare away the timid adventurers.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“We cannot put off living until we are ready. The most salient characteristic of life is its coerciveness: it is always urgent, here and now, without any possible postponement. Life is fired at us point blank. – Ortega Y’Gasset

“God always gives us strength enough, and sense enough, for everything He wants us to do.” – John Ruskin

“If you wait around for the world to give you what you think you deserve, you are going to be sadly disappointed when you get it.” – katdish

Without Us Guys (by Billy Coffey)

As a teacher, my wife has corralled fourth-graders, mentored high schoolers, and endured the rants of countless bemused parents. As a mother, she has changed dirty diapers, cleaned vomit off the couch, and has no reservations about sticking her hands into the goop that collects in the sink strainer after the dishes are washed. She is a courageous soul, yes. There are none braver. I honestly believe this.

But she has not ventured near the mailbox for about a week now. She’s scared, she says. Because lurking there far in the back corner is a spider has taken shelter from the cold November air.

My wife does not like spiders. Not just the tarantulas or the black widows, either. She’s afraid of the teeny ones, the daddy longlegs, and those little furry black ones that like to hop, too. They are evil, she says, though she lacks the evidence to back that up. On those infrequent occasions when my wife has nightmares, spiders are often the primary antagonist. They’re in her hair or her food, and once they were even in our bed (it’s never a good thing to be awakened at three in the morning by a temporarily insane spouse exclaiming, “They’re going to eat us!!”).

Taking care of the spider was my job, which was done easily enough with the rolled up edge of the day’s Wal-Mart advertisement. It didn’t seem like a victory, not even a small one, but as I flicked spider guts onto the grass my imagination kicked in and I began to ponder.

What if I wouldn’t have been there?

Various scenarios were played out in my head. My wife would have never again checked the mailbox. Days upon days of junk mail and catalogs and bills would have piled up. Especially bills. Bills that would go unpaid, which would eventually lead to the electricity being turned off and then the gas, and then the water. Foreclosure would soon come. My wife and children would have lost everything, abandoned to a life of homelessness and destitution. All because I wasn’t around to kill the spider in the mailbox.

Okay, so maybe not. Maybe my wife would have ended up asking a neighbor to kill the spider or she would have just paid the bills online. But still, my responsibilities around the house to ensure domestic tranquility seemed at that moment pretty amazing.

I keep the yard and the vehicles up. I do the painting and hammering and sawing. I fix what is broken (and occasionally break what is fixed). I unstop the toilet. I kill the snakes and scare off the bears. I shovel the driveway and seed the grass and take the trash out.

When my kids go to bed at night, it’s me they wanted to make sure is in the next room. Not their mother, as important as she is. Their father. Because in the eyes of children, every father is a freaky combination of Old West gunslinger and Jedi knight—big and strong, wise and unflappable. At least, that’s the way it should be.

Men have a tough go at it nowadays. We’re not really allowed to be the people our father’s were, strong and stoic and tough. People in these modern times expect men to be in touch with their feelings, to be softer and not harder. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe. I don’t know.

But I do know this: in the corner of the dining room, right by the backdoor, another spider has taken up residence. I saw it this evening. And I’m pretty sure it saw me, too. I doubt that spiders hold men in high regard. After all, we’re the only people keeping them from overtaking the world.

***

To read more from Billy Coffey, visit him at at his website and follow him on the twitter at @billycoffey.

Shallow and Profound (Oswald Chambers)


Still lovin’ me some Oswald Chambers – especially today’s reading. Have a blessed Sunday.

November 22 Reading from My Utmost for His Highest

“Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.” 1 Corinthians 10:31

Beware of allowing yourself to think that the shallow concerns of life are not ordained of God; they are as much of God as the profound. It is not your devotion to God that makes you refuse to be shallow, but your wish to impress other people with the fact that you are not shallow, which is a sure sign that you are a spiritual prig. Be careful of the production of contempt in yourself, it always comes along this line, and causes you to go about as a walking rebuke to other people because they are more shallow than you are. Beware of posing as a profound person; God became a Baby.

To be shallow is not a sign of being wicked, nor is shallowness a sign that there are no deeps: the ocean has a shore. The shallow amenities of life, eating and drinking, walking and talking, are all ordained by God. These are the things in which Our Lord lived. He lived in them as the Son of God, and He said that “the disciple is not above his Master.”

Our safeguard is in the shallow things. We have to live the surface common-sense life in a common-sense way; when the deeper things come, God gives them to us apart from the shallow concerns. Never show the deeps to anyone but God. We are so abominably serious, so desperately interested in our own characters, that we refuse to behave like Christians in the shallow concerns of life.

Determinedly take no one seriously but God, and the first person you find you have to leave severely alone as being the greatest fraud you have ever known, is yourself.

Hope Springs Eternal (Repost)

I believe that certain abilities and traits (good and bad) are passed down either by heredity or simply by growing up around said traits and abilities. I’d be willing to bet that anyone who has a child over the age of 3 has seen a personality trait in their child that they immediately recognize as one that is shared by either themselves or their spouse. Of course, the bad ones can usually be attributed to the spouse, but I digress.

Both my children are good examples of this hypothesis. But I will focus on my daughter for the purposes of this blog post. She loves all things creative (me), is a problem solver (dh), a bit of a diva (dh, okay me), loves to sing (me), paint (me), is good at building things (dh), likes to read (me), is sensitive to the feelings of others (hopefully both of us), laughs easily (me), and is a total grouch in the morning (totally dh). And while she is completely unique and has her own distinct personality, she is also a combination of the two of us. She looks more like me, but I’ve got dominant genes on my side (brown hair, eyes, etc.).

There is one thing about her that kinda baffles me. She is a total girly girl. It’s not that I don’t love that about her, I think it’s incredibly adorable. I just don’t know where that came from. She love pink, Barbies, her American Girl dolls, fashion (i.e. – all things fancy), and jewelry. I’m just not like that at all. And dh, well, don’t even go there. As evidence, I present Exhibits A, B and C: my daugther’s room circa 2004, 2006 and 2008, respectively. And yes, I did it all myself.

Now, back to the my original train of thought. As a parent, I secretly delight when I see my children take interest in or excel at something that I’m into. Just as I cringe when I see a less desirable trait that I share, like forgetting where they put anything, rear its ugly head. But in all honesty, as long as she is true to who she is, I’m good with it. I have accepted the fact that my daughter is the living embodiment of “Fancy Nancy”.
Tonight was open house at the kids’ school. When I walked into my daughter’s classroom, her teacher greeted my husband and me, then immediately asked if we had seen my daughter’s turkey. Typically, kids this age and younger make a paper turkey, and on each feather write something they are thankful for. On this particular turkey, their instructions were to imagine the turkey could talk and write some of the things that he or she would say. (Her teacher is awesome.) Imagine my surprise when I read the following on my daughter’s turkey:
-Please do not eat me because I am pregnant.
-Please do not eat me because I am krazy.
-Please do not eat me because I am too big for your oven.
-Please do not eat me because I will explode in your oven and cover it with blood.
-Please do not eat me because I have diarrhea.
Perhaps the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree after all. (*smile*)
Update: My daughter no longer likes pink. As a matter of fact, she has informed me that orange is her favorite color. She HATES pink, and she wants a whole new room. Grrr….
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