Do you mind, out there, if I don’t do any nooze today? Really, the stories are flowing into the “I Don’t Want to Believe It!” zone.
As an alternative, I offer this boy and his pogo stick, showing off his ability to hop up and down a sidewalk and the front porch step. Kid, when I had a pogo stick, I went up and down whole flights of stairs–and if my mother could’ve seen it, she would’ve had conniptions.
I wonder if I could do that today. I could change my name to “Bustyer Kiester.” I dunno: things you did as a matter of course at 12 years old seem downright suicidal 60 years later.
But I think we should all have pogo sticks. It’d help us keep our sanity.