Something For The Kid To Read

The Kid is bored and he told me to write him a blog post so he'd have something to read. At present I am trying to come up with something interesting enough to blog about.

I am having little success.

I could write about the time The Kid was driving and Tara (hi, Tara! you're famous now!) threw a melting ice cream cone out the window and hit an oncoming SUV. The SUV then followed them, made them pull over, tried to kill my brother, and then called the cops. But since I wasn't there, I won't.

I could write about the time The Kid and I snuck out of the house, got IBCs at Walmart and then took them into Krispy Kreme where we consumed too many doughnuts way too late at night. But we do that all the time, so I won't.

I could write about the time that I tried to give The Kid blue highlights last year; the Kool-Aid had a real negative reaction with the blonde and it turned them greenish-purple. But I won't.

I could write about the time The Kid and I snuck the first pieces of cake at, um, Sister's wedding and ran around the church eating them before all the guests had any. (I think we each ate about 3 pieces of cake at that wedding.) But, since I don't really want Sister knowing about that, I won't.

I could write about the time The Kid and I set fire to the frosting on some of Andrew and Laura's leftover wedding cake. (It was 11:00 at night while we were supposed to be cleaning up after the wedding.) But I can't remember if The Kid was there or not, so I won't.

I could write about the time that we were in the Boundary Waters several years ago and The Kid got all dehydrated and started barfing everywhere. But that's disgusting, so I won't.

Since I'm having such a difficult time coming up with decent writing material, I'll just give up and say to The Kid,

"You're cool. Come to my house on Friday. Oh wait, you are."