This is Friday. It’s been a good day, so far. So, I’m not going to get on my soapbox about anything, not even the biggest topics of the day.
No, I’m not going to address President Obama’s insanely ludicrous pandering to the pluralistic left at the National Prayer Breakfast.
No, I’m not going to address ISIS(L), burning people alive, Kings who act like real men and fly jets, or presidents who drink sweetened beer with uplifted pinkies, either.
Today is a day for something totally stupid…as if the daily news wasn’t full of it already.
The following (mostly) true story took place on my bus at around 7:45 a.m. in response to an honest, child-like question. Names have not been changed to protect the innocent.
Me: (to the kids on my bus) Do y’all know about Miss Cassie (she’s married, but we call her “Miss”)?
Kids: Yeah, she’s going to have a baby.
Me: No she’s not.
Kids: Yes she is.
Me: No, she is not.
Kids: UH HUH!! YES, she IS!
Me: You don’t know what you’re talking about…she is not going to have a baby!
Kids: You’re crazy, Mr. Baker! You know she’s having a baby, haven’t you seen her?
Me: Oh, I’ve seen her, but she’s not having a baby – she’s having an alien.
Kids: NUH UHHHH!! That’s CRAZY! She ain’t havin’ no alien!
Me: Is she big and fat?
Me: See. She’s going to have an alien.
Kids: NO SHE AIN’T! How do you know she’s having an alien?
Me: She was taken up in a space ship and they put an alien baby seed inside her.
Kids: NUH UH, Mr. Baker! You don’t know that!
Me: She eats green beans, doesn’t she?
Kids: We don’t know! That don’t matter anyway!
Me: Just ask her…ask her if she eats green beans.
Me: You have to eat green beans to make the alien baby green.
Kids: No the DON’T!
Me: Just ask her…ask her if she eats green beans. If she does, then she’s having an alien.
Kids: That don’t mean nothin!
Me: Is she pregnant?
Kids: Yes! She’s having a baby!
Me: Do you know what the word pregnant means? It comes from two words: Preg, which means “Alien”; and Nunt, which means “inside.” Pregnant means “Alien inside,” so, she’s having an alien.
Kids: She AIN’T havin’ an ALIEN!!
Me: Just ask her.
One child: Mr. Baker, where do babies come from?
Me: The hospital.
Miss Hensley (she’s marred, too): Welllll, thank you very much, Mr. Baker! The kids from your bus were sooo thoughtful…asking me about my squirrel bite, and all.
Me: Only trying to help.