A flare for the dramatics is the only way to describe my daughter who broke into a sporadic and quite uncalled for burst of tears today. She could be heard from the first floor crying and wailing. I thought, at first, that Barbie and Ken were having yet another heated argument over clothing attire. I was wrong. She was crying over the death of her dog, Rootbeer, who we gave away a year or so ago. Since then we have acquired two new dogs, Snookie and Ruckus, one is Husky-ish and the other a mix between min pincher and yorkie terrier. The smaller one is her dog, which I can only describe as a love hate relationship. I think he tolerates her because any attention is good attention. But she loves him … and that is why he is still around!
So this kid is crying over the death of a dog that as far as I know is not dead, but she gets into these death tangents every once in a while, and it drives me nuts when she does. It’s sorta of that, “hmmm” factor meets, “Fear Factor.” Anyway, as she was crying I’m wondering how on earth I would even start to explain that sort of full bodied heaving to the point she broke out in little pink spots all over her face that had gone milky white, pale. I’m left to think that somethings may not be fully explainable. Can you truly describe the remorse of a four-year-old who thinks her dog is dead? I mean the kid needs to be in movies, she nearly had grandma in tears, thats how good she is. How good is she? Well grandma promised to run out and buy three chickens for her tomorrow. Any more tears, maybe a fainting episode, and grandma may have gone out and bought her that pony she’s been asking for.
I see many writing prompts on some blogs and some writer’s websites, but I’m thinking there is no better writing prompt than watching the soul of a four-year-old bleed before my very eyes. I’m thinking, the way a painter paints what he sees, maybe I will write what I see. What a great prompt that will be. So I challenge my artistic friends out there to take a cue from the wold around them and try to write something they have witnessed, and see if it measures up to exactly the way you felt at that moment. I think this will be almost as fun as people watching. I also wonder how much crying I have to do over my kitty that died when I was a kid before I get a chicken of my own. I’ll name him Kentucky.