Allow me to breathe a quick sigh. You see, I've recently been given a job as a substitute teacher, and I'm still adjusting to leaving the house at 6:55 in the morning. And in four minutes, I'll have to start making cornbread muffins to go with the chili Mom's making. So let's see how much I can write in four minutes.
It'll be like the journal exercises my Fiction Writing professor tries to get us to do. I don't do them, personally. I spend most of my free time indulging my tendency to daydream. And I use the term "daydream" very loosely. "Lucid hallucination" sounds too much like a medical problem, but it's closer to what actually goes on in my head.
That's what I told the little girl at work yesterday. I was put in charge of watching the preschoolers while they napped, and one little girl was determined not to fall asleep. She ended up sitting in my lap most of the time because she missed her mommy, but hey, I enjoyed it.
But after about twenty minutes, I wanted to get back to my crochet. And I knew that the little girl's real teacher, who was on break at the moment, would be Very Annoyed at the fact that her charges weren't obeying her orders.
I couldn't just tell her, "Go lay down and daydream." She's four. She doesn't know what the word "daydream" means. So I lean close to her ear, in an attempt to not wake the other sleepers, and tell her, "Why don't you make up a story in your head?"
She couldn't do it.
Daydreaming has always come naturally to me. When I was little, our minivan had a VHS player in it. Sometimes, when we didn't have a VHS in the car with us, we'd pull the screen down and watch The Black, Black Bug. The Black, Black Bug was completely imaginary. I have no idea whether my mom or I invented the concept. But I've spent countless happy hours of my life staring at a black screen in a moving car. Talking about an insect that doesn't exist.
It's 6:02 and the muffins aren't going to make themselves. There might be type-o's in this blog. I'm sorry to say that I don't have time to correct them. When you've spent all morning with small humans who confuse p's and 9's, you tend to stop caring about type-o's.
Anyway. Have a good weekend.
M. J. Piazza is a Jesus-loving, dog-walking country girl who just so happens to write books.