I NEVER EVER want answered…
* Why was it necessary this morning for the world to stop spinning on it’s axis, annihilate itself and disintegrate into powder when I took a bite of my son’s ‘apple’ (it was a nectarine) after he said he didn’t want it?
* How many times have my children exposed my boobs to the world by pulling on the front of my shirt?
* What are my students thinking when I crack a joke I know is hilarious, and they don’t even crack a smile?
* What did my husband mean this morning, when the baby started crying, and he sat up in bed and said, “What time is it?” “It’s 4:15.” “That’s the end of Dean.” I mean, who is Dean, and why did the baby waking up in the morning kill him? The world will never know.
* Was it the new pants or the new underwear that caused the atomic wedgie that added two inches to my height on Tuesday?
* What is that crackling sound when I move my neck just…OUCH!…so…
* If I keep losing hair at this rate, how long until the bald patches show?
* Exactly how many proofreading gaffes are in my first book? (Floyd, the guy who reviewed me on his blog and is getting set to do so again, actually counts them. I begged him to never, ever, ever ever tell me that number ever.)
* How bad IS that head shot of me going to look on Floyd’s blog?
* And, the number one question I never want answered is: Exactly what was Ladybug doing in the cat box when the Cave Troll came running out screaming, “Mama, Ladybug’s playing in the cat-poo-oop!”