tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7889658833051243065.post6723688657737226810..comments2023-04-03T13:43:43.375-04:00Comments on Kubla Kong: What I'm About to Tell You Means I'm a Bad PersonUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7889658833051243065.post-2887531804543318262010-05-28T23:18:06.846-04:002010-05-28T23:18:06.846-04:00Sounds like a great book to give at a baby shower!...Sounds like a great book to give at a baby shower!<br /><br />Nice timing. We have been talking about signing Malachy--who's 3--up for swimming lessons! I could just take him to 'Silver Lake', the largest mudhole-for-profit in Raleigh. When Fran hit, a sidewall burst and the lake drained, exposing all the leftover stumps and flushing out the accumulated flotsam, jetsam, and urine.<br /><br />When Malachy was little and it wasn't 100 degrees outside, I too would run inside the convenience store. I wasn't afraid for him (I always stopped the car and locked the door); instead I always checked if the coast was clear to avoid any dirty looks supplied by bitchy old ladies. It helps that my rear windows are tinted, and that his seat was rear-facing. Now that he's forward facing, he's more conspicuous. <br /><br />When I was 4, my dad didn't get along with the neighbors in the apt complex. Well, one day I came home with a cast on my leg (I broke it while riding in a shopping cart yelling, "Faster Daddy, faster!" in the parking lot). Next thing my parents know, social services showed up. While I have no memories of the SS people, my mom, who grew up in the NC Appalachians, received a lecture about serving me Kool-Aid.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com