I’m enjoying this warmer weather, so much so that I’m overdoing it with the walking. Earlier this week, I was somewhat achy from head to toe. It didn’t stop me, though. I did, however, encourage others to stop me. They did not.
Maybe we are well on our way to an early spring. Yes! Please, don’t get me confused with a groundhog. Punxsutawney Phil’s job is safe from me. I would prefer not to have the mayor pull me from my home once a year, show me off to a crowd of people, and proclaim my reaction to the situation as a sign that winter will continue. Poor groundhog was probably shaking from terror.
For my prediction, I’m going by the warm days and cooler nights – a sign of spring – and not by the terrifying nature of my shadow or the creepy guy who insists that I’m an expert in, or a student of, meteorology.
Speaking of shadows, when my daughter was about 6 years old, I pulled up to the house and she was in the yard with her father. She was panicked, running and screaming. It was actually comical.
She ran up to the car with her hands in the air, stopped and yelled, “My shadow is chasing me!” I replied, “Oh, no! Run faster!” Off she went, continuing in her quest to outrun her shadow. If memory serves, she did not succeed and the effort went to the wayside the minute she found ants trekking to and from their home. She spent the next little bit intently watching the goings on. She was a very inquisitive child.
I guess every parent has stories to tell about their children. I, apparently, am not the exception.
Here’s one recently about my great nephew:
My niece asked me to pick up her children from school due to a doctor’s appoint. I wholeheartedly agreed and felt up to the challenge – an over estimation, apparently.
Alyssa was in the front seat, and Nate was in the back seat and muttering something about Mr. Stamp. He was relatively quiet and I was focused on driving, as any good driver should.
When I finally turned around to take a peek at Nate, he was covered with black ink from a stamp he had gotten somewhere. It was all over his arms, hands and even on his face. He had gone Mr. Stamp crazy. I freaked out, just a little.
My niece arrived at the doctor’s office to relieve me of my duties as governess over her most precious of possessions and now ink-covered son.
She hadn’t noticed Nate yet.
I said, “I have two things I need to explain.”
I relayed the above incident, to which she turned, looked at him and exclaimed, “Oh, my gosh!”
“Which brings me to the second,” I said. “None of that is my fault.”
The great niece laughed and added, “It’s even on his nose.”
My mission somewhat accomplished, I left her to deal with Mr. Stamp.
Standard reporter Lisa Hobbs can be reached at 473-2191.