Sinister, Subversive Silliness

"Oh, frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" She chortled in her joy.

In Daniel's defense, I volunteered him for this primary talk. When word went out that senior primary needed a substitute, I turned to him, asked if he would like to do it, and volunteered to assist with the writing thereof.

In my defense, Daniel agreed promptly. Like me, he generally enjoys giving talks.

In Daniel's defense, he helped outline the talk in great detail. His ideas and examples were excellent and well-organized.

In my defense, he let me draft the paragraph-form version.

In his defense, he didn't have much time to read the thing. I typed it up during second hour of church, printed it from the library computer, and handed it to him right before third hour started.

In my defense, he still had several minutes. And, really, you'd think he'd be more suspicious of his dear, sweet mom by now. I mean, if I handed you a piece of paper and said, "Here, read this out loud in front of fifty people," wouldn't YOU glance through it first for subversive content? Of COURSE you would!!! But then, you are more experienced than a nine-year-old. Poor naif, trusting, innocent, boy...

Here is a picture of the talk:




I added the highlighter in after the fact. It reads, "I want to serve God with my might, so I have decided to do all my chores at home cheerfully, and even volunteer for extras." (Ain't no way I was going to call attention to that language in advance.)

I was curious to see if Daniel would read the talk through before giving it. And if he would notice that wording. And if he would edit out that sentence.

He didn't. He delivered it verbatim.

I have witnesses.

Heck, I have VIDEO. It will join the the burgeoning ranks of mama's blackmail folder.

BWAHAHAHAHA...!

It is a glorious day.

Tomorrow, when I remind Daniel that he is going to help me clean the entire house in advance of his grandparents' arrival, that will be--(hopefully, oh, please, let it be so)--that will be an even better day.

My house is very messy. It's a combination of still working the kinks out of a new chore system, saving money by dismissing the cleaning help I've had the last two years, and starting a new math  group. Plus doing some more freelance stuff.

"If seven maids with seven mops
swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," sighed the mama, stressed,
and shed a bitter tear...

But here's the good news: I weep no more. You can't see my cheshire-cat-sized grin right now, but even if Daniel balks tomorrow, I have this moment. The glories of my victory will carry me through the next several hours of Sabbath-violating cleaning.

It is, indeed, the most frabjous of days.


--I reference, above, "Jabberwocky" and "The Walrus and the Carpenter", both by Lewis Carroll, whose skill with silly poetry rivals that of Dr. Seuss.