You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘guest post’ tag.

* So get on updating that Flickr page, would you, partner?

Ed’s latest missive:

Simon spent the evening gathering armloads of green apples from the low branches of the apple tree and chasing bewildered rabbits through the neighbor’s yard in between snack trips to the blueberry bushes. I was casually aware of all of this as I tossed balls to the older kids. After rounding the corner from one of his berry expeditions the little hipster struts up to me sporting a powder blue goatee.

Not from the blueberries. It’s really powder. It turns out that Simon has acquired a taste for chalk. He doesn’t just flip a hunk of sidewalk chalk into his mouth, though. There is a specific preparation method.

First, one selects a suitable piece of chalk – blue, perhaps? – and sets it on a hard, flat surface. Next, one jumps on it repeatedly. Once the chalk is properly pulverized, push the powder into a pile. Finally, and this part is key, shove your mouth into the pile.

Then, off again to stalk the rabbits, my little blue-moustachioed hunter-gatherer.


Again! I have no time to entertain you. And again, he pulls through.

My co-workers think I’m insane from all the giggling I do at my computer screen.

Unedited e-mail:

As I’m sitting in the rocking chair getting Simon wound down for bed, he’s on the floor playing with a car and grunt grunt grunting away. After some time, he’s quiet and no longer out of breath. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow and continues playing with the car.

I say, as if I really need to ask, “Simon? You have poopies?”
Simon stands up, says, “FART!” and runs away.

So I’ll let The Geek entertain you. Here’s an e-mail from tonight, in its entirety.

Simon picks up a full cup of water, takes a drink, and “looks” at me. You know the look.
“Simon, don’t spill.”
Brief stand-off.
He empties the cup on the kitchen floor.
Before I can even react, he hollers, “TIME OUT!” and dashes out of the room in a grinning, toe stepping, flash of blonde.

In the other room he’s singing the time-out song and dancing like a crazy monkey on a hot plate . “Time out. Tiiiime out. Timeout. Time out. Time out.”

 A guest post from Brenda:

There once was a woman named Janice
Who sued me for sexual harassment
Although swarthy greek
I thought her a freak
I’m just not a lesbian, dammit!