My sister and I were washing chocolate birthday cupcake out of my nephew's hair last night when she pointed out that all of my blog posts are sad.
"Not all my posts are sad," I said, automatically, then: "Really? All my posts are sad?"
"Yeah," she said, "kind of. Like, melancholy." She pushed out her lower lip and frowned.
"That's not true, though," I said. "I can think of posts that weren't sad. I mean, for example, I had that post about the dog - "
" - About how he got hit by a car," she added.
"I wrote about India?" I offered. "Our garden got attacked by monkeys?"
"India's not funny."
"AaaaAaaaaAaaaAaaa!" yelled my nephew, splashing. He picked up his floatable mini-football and executed a perfect left-handed pass to the faucet.
"Maybe more people would want to read your blog," she said, "if you wrote about something funny. Like, at the garden tour this weekend, 'crazy dumb mistakes that people in the suburbs make when they garden!'"
"Right," I said.
I'll keep you posted.
"Not all my posts are sad," I said, automatically, then: "Really? All my posts are sad?"
"Yeah," she said, "kind of. Like, melancholy." She pushed out her lower lip and frowned.
"That's not true, though," I said. "I can think of posts that weren't sad. I mean, for example, I had that post about the dog - "
" - About how he got hit by a car," she added.
"I wrote about India?" I offered. "Our garden got attacked by monkeys?"
"India's not funny."
"AaaaAaaaaAaaaAaaa!" yelled my nephew, splashing. He picked up his floatable mini-football and executed a perfect left-handed pass to the faucet.
"Maybe more people would want to read your blog," she said, "if you wrote about something funny. Like, at the garden tour this weekend, 'crazy dumb mistakes that people in the suburbs make when they garden!'"
"Right," I said.
I'll keep you posted.
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