Saying It

Two things you need to know for today’s story: 

1. We have raised a family of movie-watchers. 

2. And quote-ers. Who are now into the third generation.

On to my story . . .

       Grandson#2 (hereinafter known as GS2) was sitting at the kitchen table. Colouring. You have to know that this boy has aspirations of becoming one of the truly greats in video game design. He was understandably absorbed.

Only Sister (OS) was running around the front room. With nothing between her tender tootsies and the big, bad furniture. Nothing.

She miss-stepped.

Two somethings collided.

The solid, wooden something remained impassive. The soft, flesh-covered something let out a screech of pain.

OS proceeded to roll about on the floor.

Holding one foot.

And crying.

The busy household came to a screeching halt.

Everyone stared.

Well, almost everyone.

Without turning or interrupting what he was doing, six-year-old GS2 said, deadpan, “There goes our last female.”

Ultimate precision.

In craft.

In speech.

It’s a gift.

For those who may not have seen it: 'Our last female' from Ice Age