The Comforting Scent of Crayola

Yesterday morning, I looked out into the soft grey gloom of early morning rain & thought out loud: "I would like nothing better than to spread all my coloring books out on the floor & pull out my crayons & markers 'n stuff, drink hot chocolate & color til I fall back asleep." Rob agreed with my plans, and I told him I'd even share my crayons with him, as long as he promised not to stick any up his nose. He said he couldn't make any promises as far as the big fat magic markers go, but he could avoid putting crayons up his nose... maybe one might find its way into his ear, but crayons are all made of wax anyway. I suggested a yellow or burnt sienna.

Alas, all such plans are laid to waste when the whole reason I was up at the ungod/dessly hour of 6am was because I had a day job to go to :( I had a moment of amusement at said day job, tho. I answered the phone to hear a young boy hollering "Hep me! Hep me! My mama's gonna beat me! She gonna beat me!!!" I heard someone who was presumably his mama holler back, "Boy, you better hang up that phone!", followed by a loud 'thwap' sort of noise. I was like, well, if she wasn't gonna beat him before, she's surely doing it now.

Rob just told me that he believes scorpions are the letter 'Y' gone horribly wrong.