First you need to go over here and read this story.... really...I'll wait...
ok...are you back now? Wasn't that funny? I thought so...and it reminded me of a story..
Let's do some background...
The son was 3 or 4..
I was sick...
We were home together for the day..
We lived in a smallerish house on a little more than 4 acres in the middle of friggin nowhere.. there was a walmart and two grocery stores... hubby loved it. He could target shoot off the deck. And he did. Many times... We had a well and a well house...Yes! a house just for the well. Can you city folks even imagine? And the first time the water froze, that little well house got it's own little heater... We had a tree house and a metal stock tank the kids used as a swimming pool..
Anyway... I was sick and the son was little. I was laying on the couch (half asleep) and the son started up the steps.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I need some food" he said.
"what kind of food".
"I want some cheese".
"ok, come right back"
He did. With cheese. Which he promptly took behind the recliner and then he started talking..
"what are doing over there?"
"feeding my mouse"
"What mouse?" I asked
"my friend mouse"
"Does your friend mouse like cheese?".
"yes" he said "he loves him cheese" (don't kids talk cute?)
In my sick fog I said "that's nice stinky butt"... cause we called him stinky butt!!!
Well, he kept talking and talking getting more cheese and finally after about an hour he came over and very quietly said...
"he won't eat the cheese"
"oh honey, he's not going to eat the cheese, he isn't real"...
Well, he argued with me and argued with me and I am sure by now you know exactly where this is headed.
The mouse was real...
The mouse was dead...
My son was playing with a dead mouse while I laid on the couch sick.
I've always been surprised that Social Services didn't bang on the door...