Dinnertime at Caterpickles Central

Mommyo, curiously: “The Seven-Year-Old, will you tell us about your day?”

The Seven-Year-Old, plaintively: “Do I have to? I’m kind of out of words and then I just start repeating the same words over and over again.”

Mommyo, persistently: “You just used a bunch of words explaining that you were out of words.”

The Seven-Year-Old, patiently: “I’m not actually out of words. I’m just out of sentences.”

Mommyo, ironically: “‘I’m out of sentences,’ she said declaratively.”

The Seven-Year-Old looks at her Mommyo blankly.

Mommyo, consolingly: “That joke will be much funnier when you’re in third grade, The Seven-Year-Old.”

Daddyo, flatly: “No it won’t.”

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About Shala Howell

Writer of things ranging from optical network switching white papers to genetic testing patient education materials to historical fiction set in an 1880s asylum. When I’m not scratching my head over pesky characters who refuse to do things how I want them done or dreaming of my next book (which will of course be much easier to write than the current one), my writerly self can be found blogging about life with a very curious Ten-Year-Old at Caterpickles.com, or musing about books and the writing life at BostonWriters.wordpress.com.
This entry was posted in Funny Stuff My Husband Says, Linguistics and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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