I got to my mom’s house last night to find that she had turned the Christmas lights on. Squiggle Bug was eager to show them to me, taking me by the finger and saying, “Lights! Lights!” He showed me the Christmas lights, and pointed to them one by one as I told him what color the light he was pointing at was. He would repeat the doors as best he could and was so pleased. He took y finger and pulled me down to sit on the floor with him so we could admire the lights for awhile. I decided to get the Christmas-light necklace that my spouse had gotten me out of my room at the end of the hall. Squiggle Bug followed me, of course. As not to spoil the surprise, I found it in the dark, put it around my neck, and turned the lights on. Squiggle Bug was so excited, haha! He jumped up and down and grabbed my finger, running down the hallway and toward the kitchen where Grandma was, yelling, “Tiss! Tiss! Tiss!” to indicate that I was the source of all the commotion. He showed me and my lights to Grandma enthusiastically and explained in a jumble of words (both recognizable and non) that I had lights on me. I walked down the dark hallway with Squiggle Bug in tow again and positioned him between myself and the mirror at the end of the hallway. Even more lights! He laughed and pointed with glee. We hung the lights around the topmost lamp of the standing lamp pole in the corner of the living room and left them on for him to admire for the rest of the evening. He was so overjoyed at all the lights. I wish life was still that simple and happiness was still that easy to find… Of course, I have to say that climbing does that same thing for me, so happiness is never far away!
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.