It's a play that has a dad named Blue Butterfly and a mom named The Funniest Butterfly. And they had two children named Spice and Color. Two funny names. And they had those two children in May when the father died. Because right after they were right out of her belly, the mother went over to talk to her husband and say, "My children are born. Want to hold them?" But he was all bones because he was dead.
And because he was dead, it was so much trouble getting the babies out of the mommy's belly. So all that time, the father was getting old, old, old. And all the time he was dead, the mother was crying. Her tears just were like a waterfall, flowing out of her eyes, making a flood out of the doctor's office because she was so sad that her husband died.
She knew that he was getting old, old, old. That all the time he was waiting for her to get the babies out, her husband kept getting older, older, older, older. While her husband was waiting, he licked on a lollipop.
Love,
Caroline
1 comment:
Quite an unusual story, Caroline. Very clever!
Keep writing for your blog and I will read it all the time.
Love,
Grammy (who's getting old, old old!)
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