“Well, um . . .”

On the rainy way to  school this morning:


“Mom, can I have an umbrella?”

“I don’t think there’s one in the car.  Where’s yours?”

“Well, um . . . It broke.”

“Oh?  How?”

“Um . . . I was playing with it on the playground at school?”

“And . . . ?

“And the umbrella part came off the stick part.”

“Maybe we can fix it.”

“The stick part is bent a little.”

“We might be able to unbend it.  Just remind me after we get home tonight and I’ll take a look.”

“Well, um . . .  I only have the stick part.”

“Where’s the umbrella part?”

“I don’t know!  I put both pieces in my backpack, but there’s only the stick now.  And I’ve looked, Mom.”

“Maybe we should look again.”

“I guess. . .  Or you could buy me a new one.”

“Or you could buy yourself a new one with your birthday money?”


“C’mon, kid.  You have almost twenty-five dollars left, right?”

” . . . ”

“Right, Janie?”

“Well, um . . . Oh, look!  It stopped raining! “


8 thoughts on ““Well, um . . .”

  1. we have more broken umbrellas than we do rainy days. it’s my fault for letting them open them in the house for song and dance routines. (but, they’re just so much more fun top play with that way)

  2. Okay, if this is not a lesson in withholding information to elevate the story, I don’t know what is. Children are brilliant.

    Luckily, I essentially play poker for a living. My son was telling me a story the other day, which ended in me saying (I am nothing if not over the top), “I am outraged that your teacher would do such a thing! I’m going to call her right now!”
    “No, that’s okay…”
    “No it’s not!”
    “Mom you don’t have the number?”
    “Speed dial. Programmed her at the start of the year.” I picked up the phone. Hit the button.
    “Okay! It didn’t happen exactly like that…”
    Me looking puzzled and shocked, “Really?”


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