Where do ideas come from? Some of mine are reasonable and sensible, and some of them come from the little green men from Mars who whispered into my ears while I was sleeping last night. I do NOT know where some of these things come from, and I most certainly do not claim authorship. Our son (my husband’s son) Tim has some amazing ideas that are actually fairly logical, when you can stop laughing long enough to think about the situation.
Tim lives with his mother, and her new husband, Tim’s stepfather. As is typical in these family situations, Tim was wont to refer to his biological father as “my real dad.” In his five-year-old logical little mind, that obviously made this other man, his stepfather, his “fake dad.” Boy, would I have loved to have been a fly on the wall when that one came out of his innocent and quite logical little mouth. I still cannot but help snickering when I think about “fake dad.”
I had one of those moments, when I was a small child, too. I was with my grandmother in the yard of her home, and “we” were working in her flowerbeds, weeding and watering her flowers. She had a waterhose, and I wanted to water flowers, too. So, I toddled over to the workshed and got an axe that was laying with the other tools, and I went and chopped the hose in two, so I could have a hose, and she could have a hose. It made perfect sense to me – divide it in two, and we each will have a piece to work with. Until grandmama came around the corner to the house, seeking to discover what was wrong with her water hose that was no longer producing water. She found me, happily watering flowers with my half of the hose, which was, of course, working just fine, thank you. The wrath of God might possibly explain what occurred next. My grandpapa chided her for her punishment of me (possibly the only time he ever took up for me) and told her that it was a perfectly logical thing to do, even if the results were less than satisfactory.
I still get ideas like that, unfortunately.