TYPHOON BUFFOON
OR KNOW-IT-ALL MOM?

I asked Eden, our college-aged daughter, if she would please open the boxes of the hurricane glass centerpieces I ordered for her eldest sister's upcoming wedding, and check the glass for cracks and crookedness while there's still time to exchange them.

On my way out the door on errands, I hurriedly told her that we got two sizes, so some boxes will have two, and some will have just one.

Now imagine the pages of the calendar flying off. I completely forgot about the assigned task.

Days later, we were lounging at the kitchen table, and out of the clear blue sky, she asked:

"Mom, how many hurricanes are there?"

Wish I had a photo of my face. I thought she meant great, big ocean storms. I thought she was asking me how many of them there have ever been, throughout the world, for as long as time, which, of course, I hadn't the slightest molecule of an idea how many.

Gee! My daughter thinks I'm THAT smart! That's a switch!

But nooooooo. She didn't mean storms. She meant that she hadn't yet scrutinized those hurricane-glass centerpieces downstairs and was wondering if the task was going to cut into her busy schedule of lounging, snacking and watching T . . . I mean, if she could fit it in around all her intensive studying for finals.

THAT's all.

Come to think of it, I didn't remember how many of the centerpieces we had, either, but at least I think my guess could come a lot closer.

YOU KNOW IT'S MONDAY MORNING
WHEN YOU HEAR AN EXCUSE LIKE THIS

As the school year winds down to a close, the social and sports schedule of our 9-year-old heats up to a fever pitch.

Maddy had a busy weekend with soccer practice, tae kwon do, a birthday party, horseback riding with her fun new babysitter, church, a little neighborhood clean-up participation . . . so she was sleepy at breakfast this morning.

I leaned across the kitchen island, trying to establish eye contact in order to list her scheduled activities after school today: tae kwon do, shagging balls at the high school soccer game, piano practice. . . .

Rubbing her eyes, she interrupted me:

"Slow down, Mom! My FRECKLES aren't even awake yet."

FUN WITH FOGIES:
KEEP 'EM JUMPING WITH A JOKE ABOUT FALLING

I have a very dear elderly buddy who moved recently to a senior citizen center up in North Dakota to be near his family. He can see a lot of northern wildlife cavorting out his window, and he really likes living there.

He reported that he has started a physical therapy class designed to teach balance in order to keep from falling, a major threat to older folks.

In the first session, each "student" told about their own experiences with falling.

The oldest guy went last. At 93, he muttered devilishly:

"They must have had us folks in mind when they named this town 'Fergus FALLS.'"

It brought down the house . . . so to speak.