Sunday, April 10, 2005


Today we were at the park where they have the tire swing in which the FYO likes to spin wildly.

She likes to be spun so fast on that tire, its as though she is preparing to enter the Air Force Academy by simulating g-forces, showing the strength of her stomach. She gets going so fast that any tears, drool, spit, snot or other liquid substance eking from her facial orafices immediately flatten into droplets that slowly crawl down her cheeks, ultimately drying into a salty streak.

And still. It is not fast enough.


Today she was having me spin her, post-sandwich, in tandem with Sidekick. They were sitting side-by-side, two/thirds of the tire, which made the spin quite lopsided--elliptical even--with the empty seat nearly swiping me at each wide orbit.

Sidekick wasn't LOVING it, so we moved into the slow lane to accomodate her seemingly weak stomach.

The FYO then announced that they would be switching places.


Because MY seat's the slow seat.


. . .

Aren't they the same?

No. When you spin us fast, it is just fine for me, but WAY to fast for her!

Thwarted again by her impeccable logic.

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