Jill's Place

A life in progress, spent mostly in the kitchen

I get to hear stories

Sam, in the car on the way home this afternoon, rather . . . seriously: “It’s dangerous out there.”

Me, driving, and now kind of curious: “What’s dangerous?”

Sam: “Sissy said it’s dangerous – the beeeeeeeg mudpit.”

(This doesn’t actually sound like something L would say . . . not scared of much, that girl. Plus, you know, what big mudpit???)

Me: “Oh, what’s dangerous about it?”

Sam: “I falled in, and I get stuck, and I scared, and then Mommy and Daddy, and Sissy, and Grammy and Pops, and Grandma D., and Miss Shenelle and Miss Tammy, and Miss Sheila, and Miss Amanda SAVE me. You pull and you pull and you PUUUUULLLLLLL and POP! you pull me out.”

Me: “Well, of course. Why did we all save you?”

Sam: “Because you love me.”

Slight pause.

“And because it’s dangerous. You no let me fall.”

No. No, I won’t, Boo.

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