Happy birthday, Peanut.

My apathetic, expressionless, indifferent little ten year old.

My stoic, impassive, uncommunicative, emotionless, vacuous, lackluster, bespectacled closed book, encapsulated in a wet blanket.

Why do you find it so difficult to emote? Why must you be so detached from life?


HAHAHAHAHAHA. As if, right?

I know! Like, ten years ago, I didn’t give birth to one of the most lively, enthusiastic, animated, exuberant, effusive, sideline-phobic, spirited participants in life EVER.

Hello, I’m the Creative Junkie and I’m an addict. is my crack.

Nice to meet, rendezvous and make your acquaintance.

I’m beginning to suspect that you’ve been letting Daddy listen to Pop2K on XM Radio again because, this?

This is his signature move.

When he’s not doing that weird “running man” thing or that weirder “I have a charlie horse in my leg” thing, I mean.

Am I right?

Honey, when you indulge Daddy by letting him dance out loud, you are only encouraging him. And what do we say when Daddy tries to find rhythm?

Do you remember?


Yes, exactly.

It’s for his own safety. Otherwise, Daddy is going to start thinking he’s actually good. And then what? Next thing you know, Daddy’s going to be listening to Katy Perry over the sound system and get the urge to get his freak on right there in the middle of Home Depot and then where will we be? Aside from hunting down the manager to tell him that there’s a poor, strange man having an epileptic seizure in plumbing and by the way, where can we find copper tubing?

I know! That’s how I feel too. No one wants to see Daddy get shot with a tranquilizer gun.

By the way, “get your freak on” means dance, right?

Should I have said “groove” instead?

Is it wrong I’m asking a ten year old this?

I think you’re right, pumpkin. So let’s just forget I said anything.

In fact, let’s forget this entire conversation.

Except when I said Happy birthday, Peanut.

Because that was my favorite part.



Creative Junkie

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