Baby Gag Beer Bottles for your little drinker.

Political T-Shirts.

A child’s imaginary friend becomes real

As always, don’t make the story too long and check back here Saturday for my story and to post your own. Have fun and I can’t wait to read your stories.

1.) Describe your significant other’s most attractive quality (on the inside).
2.) Tell about a time you stole something. 
3.) Choose a poem you like. Take the last line and use it as the first line of your own poem. (creativewritingprompts.com)
4.) Write about a scary encounter with one of your old professors.

I guess I’ll go with number 1, since I haven’t stolen anything, can’t think of a poem right now that has a good last line, and haven’t had any scary experiences with an old professor. Here goes:

It’s hard to pick Hubby’s most attractive feature. He’s very smart – sometimes too smart for me. There are times he starts talking about something and I just have no clue, so I just smile and nod. And he funny. Granted, sometimes it’s the humor of a 13 year old, but, it’s still funny. And he’s fun. He’s definitely a free spirit who doesn’t really care what other people think. Very independent and confident. The exact opposite of me in that regard. He also wants to somehow make a difference in this world, make his mark somehow. It’s a trait I hope Princess gets. I also hope she gets his anti-materialistic streak.

For me, I think his best quality is his supportiveness. He keeps me sane and believes in me even when I don’t believe in myself (I am low self-esteem girl, always beating myself up). He tells me I’m a good mom and that I’m pretty (ha, take that, Mama Kat) and basically just keeps my confidence up and keeps me from going into a funk.

So, that’s Hubby for ya. To check out what other people wrote, stop by Mama Kat’s place:

And don’t forget to look at the plot for this week’s Storytime Saturday!

confabulation • \kun-fab-yuh-LAY-shun\  • noun
1 : familiar talk or conversation
2 : a filling in of gaps in memory by fabrication

When Princess is older and starts asking about my childhood, I will probably have to resort to confabulation in my stories, not because I want to make my childhood seem grander and more exciting, but simply because I can’t remember.  I have a horrible memory. And then there are those trips or events where you’re not really sure if it’s a memory or if you’ve just seen enough pictures and heard the story from someone else so many times it just seems like a memory.  For instance, when I was very little, the house we lived on was up  on a hill with a steep driveway. The schoolbus picked me up at the bottom of the hill.  When it got icy, I kept slipping and my brothers (they were teenagers then) would have to help me down. I don’t know if this is an actual memory or if I’ve just heard it told so many times it seems like one.  Do you have any recollections like this?

Invisible City Productions: games.