Happy F-Day

Chopping Looney Toons? Tunes?

Every once in a while, a word crosses your path and you learn to hate it. Maybe, you used to love the word. Then, all of a sudden, it trips you, and you hate it. You pick yourself up. You dust yourself off, and you go on in your spellaventure. My word throughout life was accurate. I learned to hate mispronunciation of words because when the spelling bee lady said, I am sorry. I remember my mindsearch through the files to see where I had misspelled that word. Today it is tune.
My baby, by dear sweet babyface, was in the class spelling bee. I nearly fainted. I nearly celebrated. I had to be there.
As is usually the case in the life of the youngest child, providence never accomodates the hurdle of the mother to the scene. I have to see him. I have to know that he really can spell. One of my own dear children, can actually spell, it didn't skip a generation, as I thought, by experience.

Car broke down, I was running. I was pushing. Oh! I missed the piesta resistance. But my baby is now my favorite second grade speller.