Theme Thursday: Ants

The ants go marching one by one, the little one stops to suck his thumb.

Ants don't have thumbs.

The ants go marching two by two, the little one stops to tie his shoe. 

Nor wear shoes. 


The ants go marching three by three, the little one stops to climb a tree. 

To avoid being stepped on?


The ants go marching four by four, The little one stops to shut the door. 

Never seen an ant do this.

The ants go marching five by five, The little one stops to take a dive.

Are they marching on water?

The ants go marching six by six, The little one stops to pick up sticks.

Why?

The ants go marching seven by seven, the little one stops to pray to heaven.

Dear Lord, 
Please make me 50 times stronger than a man of my weight. Oh wait, you already did. So please grant me the intelligence of one woman.

                                                       Amen

 

The ants go marching eight by eight, The little one stops to shut the gate.

That I'd like to see.

The ants go marching nine by nine, The little one stops to check the time.  

Sundial?

The ants go marching ten by ten, the little one stops to say "THE END," and they all go marching down, to the ground, to get out of the rain, BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Finally! Yes, ants get out of the rain because they can drown. Usually they take refuse in my mailbox. Unfortunately, the last line didn't redeem the song, so let's listen to something better.

Meet Adam Ant. 

Wordless Wednesday: Sleep

We found body products to help one sleep at the 

Bath and Body Works store.

It worked too well because when I spritzed some on, 

I instantly fell asleep.

Erica had the same problem, so we called 

the sales lady over . . .

but she fell asleep too.

#GBE2: Oh, no! Not Again.

How could one so cute break anything?

When I was a little tyke, my "big bother" dubbed me Miss Breaker. After that, I was blamed for everything that broke, whether I'd done it or not. For example, take the large cushy chair in the family room. After many years of use, the back sagged and little 60 pound me was blamed. Okay, I admit I used to climb over the back and somersault into the cushion, but did I really break it? Adult people plopped into that chair all the time. Certainly that wore the back out more than a tiny, innocent child.

I was also blamed for the broken bushes in front of the house. The bushes? Really? Those huge leafy things were twice my size. How could little me have broken them? Okay, I admit my ball landed in the bushes a few times, and I fought branches to get it back, but did I really break them? The wind blew a lot, and we even had an earthquake one day. Certainly the weather wore out the bushes more than a tiny, innocent child.

Of course, I was not the only one blamed for weather. When a rumbling sounded through our home, my dad hollered up the stairs, "Florence! Stop jumping around up there."

To which my mom said, "It's not me! It's an earthquake." 

See, those frequent St. Louis earthquakes do a lot of damage to chairs, bushes, and marriages. So, should one blame a tiny, innocent child . . . again?