inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened

Today’s blog is dedicated to my mother-number-two. Why? Because she provides me motivation to continue writing here, she was one of the main reasons I started to write here in the first place (due to her out-of-town condition), and she is the only one left who still reads what I write here. And because she practically demanded it. And - oh yeah - because it’s her birthday! Happy Birthday, Mormor!

So instead of forcing you to read whatever crap is surging through my brain on this particular morning, today we’re going to try something a little out of the ordinary. Ben has been bugging me for months to take control of the keyboard and write his own thoughts for you, but I’ve been hesitant to allow him that satisfaction. Not so much because I’m afraid of what he’ll say, or because I’m worried he’ll click the wrong mouse button and accidentally get transported to some kinky adult web site, but mainly because he can just barely identify all 26 letters in the alphabet and I don’t think he’d ever finish his blog using the 'hunt-and-peck' method of typing. Not to mention he doesn’t even know how to say “punctuation”, let alone comprehend it’s meaning or usage [I guess you could say the same about me, but that’s neither here nor there]. So instead, I’ll be Ben’s ghost writer, his correspondence officer, his fingers and spell-checker. I have the little kid on my lap, and he’ll whisper his innocent little thoughts into my ear – okay, check that. He’ll scream them into my ear. Okay, Benjamin, I’m shutting up. . . Okay, fine – you can talk now. . . Okay, already! . . . No, you can’t hold the mouse. . . Because I need it. . . Could we just start already?


Hi, Mormor! Happy Birthday! I love you! You rock!

Never mind whatever Daddy was typing up there; he can get so confused. I love him, I really do, but sometimes he can be just a few fries short of a Happy Meal, you know what I mean? [I heard that, Benjamin]. I don’t know how you keep reading this thing, other than to look at all the pretty pictures of me. I know I get tired of listening to Daddy after just a few minutes. [I heard that too!]. I try to talk as much as possible, as a matter of fact, to drown out whatever drivel my parents babble at me. It’s always “Benjamin, do this,” or “Benjamin do that.” “Benjamin, say please,” and “Benjamin, no hitting.” “Benjamin, take off your shoes,” and “Benjamin, you shouldn’t splice dissimilar thermonuclear reactor couplings in a 100% oxygen environment!” I figure, if I just talk and talk and talk and talk and talk, they won’t be able to get a word in edgewise, especially since I know that they think it’s just oh so cute when I try to talk in full sentences. They are such pushovers! Someday I’m going to parlay this cuteness into a sweet new ride at their expense. [Helloooo? Benjamin, I’m right here! Have you forgotten?]. Just type, Daddy. You’re not paid to comment.


Where was I? Oh yeah - my Mormor. So this weekend I got sick, Mormor. I had some kinda hand, hoof and mouth disease. I must have gotten it from the cow in my flip-up book, the one with the brown spots on his butt. It really hurt, I must say, but after the first couple of days I was just pretending the pain to get more popsicles. I didn’t have to eat any vegetables for five straight days! [All right, I’m not even going to comment on that one, Benjamin.] I’m feeling much better now, but I figure I could stretch it out a few more days, just in case I don’t feel like going to bed on time, and then Mommy will let me stay up late cuddling in her arms.

What have you been doing at your house? How are the doggies? I miss you so much. Whenever I play baseball in the front yard, I think of you and how we played baseball the last time you were here in town. I still think it was a little weird that you kept throwing your long dress over my head and playing hide-and-seek, but I’ll just chalk that up to the long-term effects of your being surrounded by a bunch of other cheese-heads for the past few years. By the way - when are you coming to live here in Illinois? We would have so much fun! I would totally take you out on a date to the ice-cream store, and let you buy me all the ice-cream I can eat! Pleeeeease, come and live in Illinois?


Okay, Daddy says I have to go to school now. Normally I would put up a fuss, but he doesn’t look all that awake yet, so I’ll catch him a break. Besides, I can’t wait to go play with all my friends and go down the slide and swing in the playground. I love you so much, Mormor! I hope you have the greatest birthday ever! Tell the doggies I said hi!

[Happy Birthday, Momma. We love you!]