I  have a wrinkled egg.

Now, this isn’t a statement on my reproductive system, or lack thereof.

This is a wrinkled chicken’s egg that I have, or rather had.  I did dispose of it, somewhat fearfully, in case the egg candlers were snoozing when this little guy came by and it really had in it a little guy.

I mean, the shell was wrinkled!  And it was flat on one side.  I took a picture.  See below.

See the wrinkles?  See the flat left side?  Now you know why I thought there might be a bird inside.

But there wasn’t.  Whew!

Did you hear the joke about the guy who ordered a chicken and an egg from Amazon just to see which came first?

Bwahaha!

Danger!  No transition here!    Danger!

I volunteered at my favorite elementary school today and had a blast.  I forgot how unintentionally funny kids can be.  For instance, as we were reading a second grade story about going to the beach, I stopped and asked a question about where you might carry sand home with you by accident.  I was thinking along the lines of “in your shoes”  or,  “on your legs and arms,”  which would then tie into the rest of the story.    The student pointed to his private parts , grimaced and said, “Maybe here.”    I grimaced, too.

And I thought, I guess a visit to the beach is different for us bigger people who have learned not to scoot across the sand on our butts, just because we’d get sand in our suits.  We already know how uncomfortable that feels.  And we also know to go into the water to rinse that sand off before the long car ride home.  Maybe this last summer’s visit to the beach was this kid’s time to learn those  lessons.

I wanted to tell him it’s not always going to be like that. I wanted to tell him that he would learn how to play at the beach without getting sand in his suit.  I wanted to tell him that the car ride home will be more comfortable.

But I didn’t.  I just said, “Uh hunh,” and kept my smile to myself.   Then we continued reading the story.

I think we forget just how many lessons we have learned through experience and how many these little people have yet to meet head on.

Danger!  Again, no transition!  Danger!

This is reminiscent of the past posts about Petunia and  coincidences.  For some reason I got distracted (Who? Me?) and forgot to relate this coincidence which happened around the same time as Brave Petunia.  I had finished the one book that had all the coincidences in it and started a new one.  First of all, the main character’s birthdate was one day after mine.  The year wasn’t the same, but seriously, one day?  And then, she had a trouble that her twin didn’t share: a severe loneliness that would shake her to her core.  When she went to a therapist for help with this, he suggested that she give a name to this condition.  She did.

She called it, “Petunia.”

Shivers up your spine?  You’re welcome!

Love,

Janet