I write letters to Ellen DeGeneres. No particular reason. Just because I can.
Though I haven’t been officially diagnosed, I’m certain I suffer from an incurable disease known as TMICRIMH. I’m not even sure I got all the letters. How sad is that? TMICRIMH stands for Too Many Imaginary Conversations Running Around In My Head. Look at that! I did miss a letter. (Shakes head) As such, I can’t remember if I’ve already shared this imaginary conversation with you. Please forgive me if it’s a duplicate.
This is another imagined conversation between my 3 1/2 year-old son and almost two-year-old daughter.
Baby Boy: Today was an exhausting but fascinating day. I think I’ll sleep rather well.
Baby Girl: Why, brother? What was so fascinating about it?
Baby Boy: The train ride, of course. I love trains! I love playing with trains. I love watching trains on television. And, I really love riding in trains! It was the most exhilarating day of my entire life!
Baby Girl: Well I don’t love trains! I don’t like watching trains. I don’t like playing with trains. I don’t like it when you throw your trains at me, AND! I really don’t like riding in or waiting for trains.
Baby Boy: (Pursing his lips) I’m going to write about your irrational dislike of trains for my third grade dissertation.
Baby Girl: I’m going to color all over your third grade dissertation with my pink crayon!
Baby Boy: Don’t be silly, sister. You can’t color with a pink crayon!
Baby Girl: Why not?
Baby Boy: If you had observed the map at the train station, you would have noticed that there were no pink lines on the map.
Baby Girl: Excellent observation in deed! How do you recommend I amend my previous statement?
Baby Boy: It’s a very simple process, sister. Simply subtract the pink crayon from your statement and replace it with one of the colors that was available on the map. Your options are: red, orange, silver, blue, yellow or green.
Baby Girl: Very well then. I’m going to color all over your third grade dissertation with a red crayon.
Baby Boy: (Nodding) Excellent choice.
Baby Girl: And then I’m going to shove my pink crayon up your nose!
Ellen, I think next time I diagnose myself, I’ll pick an acronym I can remember. What do you think?