Danny Bob the turkey, a Thanksgiving tale for the ages

by Daniel Scarborough

Once upon a time, there was a turkey named Danny.

Danny was really lazy.and fat.

One day, he decided to eat healthy.

Then he wanted to live in a house. So he built a house.

Then he bought a lottery ticket and he only won $3. So he gave all of the money to charity.

Then he built a bike so that he could ride his bike. Then he sold the bike and gave the money to charity to bring old men back to life.

The End

Danny the turkey, a.k.a. Dan lives on Candy Corn Street in New York. He lives there with his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Bob. Danny works at Jack in the Box. He has a pet moose, cats, dogs and horses that keep him pretty busy.His favorite tv show is Cats Chase Mice. Danny likes to ride his bike. His favorite snack is cookies. His favorite song is anything by One Direction.His favorite book is Curious Turkey. Danny’s favorite holiday is not Thanksgiving, but rather Christmas.

To my dear friend Kale, who wants me to write a book someday soon, I am betting Daniel will be writing his own book sooner. I bet he will get published too!

Happy Thanksgiving-Hannukah-Shopping Until You Drop or Trample Somebody!

NaPhoPoMo day 28

owwies DO always get better- a guest blog

Owwies always get better. At least that’s what I tell my guys. At their age it’s a good enough working theory and all they need to know for now.

Boots, the 3-year-old, was skeptical a month of so ago when he encountered the most painful owwie of his short life, scraping off half the skin on the pinky side of his hand in a nasty case of road burn from a treadmill.

Within weeks, though, he waving the hand in stunned amazement. “It did get better!”

Big Guy, 5, was a doubter about a year and a half back when hernia surgery sheered an elephant-trunk-like appendage from his belly and closed a hole in his abdominal muscles. He’d wake up crying in the wee hours for a few days after the operation, begging for his old belly back. “It didn’t hurt,” he’d weep.

Now, though, he takes great pride in his brand-new belly button that looks almost like his brother’s.

And I, too, had trouble believing when I was about Jodie’s age and I blew away a section of my femur in a car accident. I’ll admit to having more than one case of the weepy “why me’s” while I was stuck in a hospital for three weeks as my friends enjoyed the summer.

Dad and I have been lucky so far that the guys’ owwies have been minor and short-lived. Except for the surgery, which we at least had ample time to plan for, to arrange work schedules, to see that there was help with Boots as Big Guy recovered.

I can’t even imagine how to begin dealing with what The Big Top’s gone through of late, ever since a happy weekend at a dance competition, complete with Mom-appropriate juice boxes, went bad. Way bad.

I suspect my reaction would be a bit like Laura’s, which is to run myself into a frazzle commuting 80 miles to visit my kid in the hospital while still half to three-quarters sick myself. Moms are like that, aren’t they?

Which, of course, doesn’t help anyone much in the long-run. But we never can see that when we’re in the throes of it.

Here’s wishing Jodie the best during what has to be a frustrating hospital stay – in isolation, no less. And here’s wishing the rest of The Big Top the best during a juggle that’s recently become 10 times more complicated.

And here’s wishing Laura the wise counsel I saw on Twitter just minutes ago:

“I’m thinking when the doc said I need to rest for the next two weeks he meant something different than what I can do. Thinking his idea better.”

Yes, it is. Hint, hint!

Debra Legg is a blogger and free-lance writer in California’s Central Valley. You can read more about her adventures in boyland at debralegg.com.