tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7954473905210246986.post1320596780579604001..comments2023-09-23T06:13:38.439-07:00Comments on I Take the Pen: The Mighty Pen #13Kristahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10348921731053503531noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7954473905210246986.post-60864258930216073042011-09-24T10:12:14.821-07:002011-09-24T10:12:14.821-07:00This comment has been removed by the author.WilyBCoolhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03024857201066234431noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7954473905210246986.post-38977096875942740002011-09-22T17:22:02.264-07:002011-09-22T17:22:02.264-07:00That is sweet. I liked it!That is sweet. I liked it!Kristahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10348921731053503531noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7954473905210246986.post-3392711375701225342011-09-22T17:12:31.622-07:002011-09-22T17:12:31.622-07:00"You ask me why? The only answer I can give y..."You ask me why? The only answer I can give you is... that it is selfish, self-seeking, rude, inconsiderate, self-centered, and ill advised. I hate seeing it. If it stopped coming I would be incredibly happy.”<br /><br />She smiled, dimples forming at the corners of her mouth and causing a small grin to spread across his stoic face. She held it up for him to see. He looked down at the burning flames, small but too numerous to count without using fingers and toes once or twice. The smell of smoke burned his nose, but he refused. It was only one little thing and he didn’t want to conform on this day. It took too much effort. She pressed him down into the wicker chair and tossed him a small hat. He vehemently shook his head. <br /><br />“I know, but you have to do it. He’s watching.”<br /><br />The little boy seat across the table, slapped his hands down on his highchair, giggling in joy at the agony on his father’s face. The mother tried to tame the brown curls as she put the cone shaped hat on his head. He sighed. Well, if he must. She placed the cake before him and kissed his cheek.<br /><br />“Happy Birthday sweetie,” she whispered.<br /><br />“I hate birthdays,” he grumbled as she put the hat on his head.<br /><br />“You are only twenty-seven. It’s not that bad.”<br />He shrugged his shoulders and blew out the candles. Nah, still hated it.Krista McLaughlinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09230770035490273428noreply@blogger.com