Anne Peterson

Healing words for wounded souls.

I am funny, ask anyone.

I was told today that my posts are serious. And there is a part of me that is serious, but I’m also funny. You can ask anyone, anyone but my brother George. He thinks he’s funnier than I am. One of my favorite stories is about George.

When I was about 11 or 12 George was pestering my sister and me. He insisted on playing with us. So, I came up with a plan. A good one. Peggy and I went to get a dictionary and I told her I was going to act angry at him, calling him a name. Afterwards I would gasp and pretend that it was a swear word. All that we needed was the word. Once I found it we just waited, knowing George would be coming soon.

We weren’t disappointed. As soon as he started bugging us I went into my act. I really missed my calling. Anyway, I finally threw up my hands in disgust and said, ” You make me SO mad, do you know what you are, you’re a … Sculptor!!  Oh … I’m sorry, (gasp) please don’t tell mom!”

Well, as expected, he took the bait. He puffed out his 8 year old chest and responded, “You are in such trouble, wait till I tell mom!!”

The hardest part was waiting, and keeping our laughter hidden. Soon enough we heard her footsteps and before she even put the groceries down, George was at her side, “Mom, do you know what Anne called me? She called me a Sculptor!”

All eyes were on mom, who didn’t miss a beat. Barely looking up she said, “So?”

And then it happened. Peggy and I were just about on the floor laughing. It has been a LONG time since that day, but it still makes me laugh. You see, I am funny. You can ask anyone … but George.

About Anne Peterson

I write words you can feel, sometimes they rhyme. If I'm not writing, I'm telling stories from my head, to little ones who call me grandma.

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