Beginner’s Luck
The lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math.
The lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math.
Do you remember fractions? You know, seven eighths, two hundred forty-seven three hundred twenty ninths? A third? Do you remember what a pain in the butt that was? No? Me either. The joy of having kids is that you get to revisit ALL your childhood, not just the good parts. Not that the diapers were such a joy, but at least I could speak with some authority. “That’s poo.” (I know poo when I see it.)
She walked off disappointed, to the point where I was thinking, gosh, I should really bring home a live bird and kill it for her in the backyard or something, before I came to my senses. Bloody minded little thing, I love her so.
Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?
The idea that you could just hand me the tooth and I’d give you a buck *never* crossed your mind, did it? You’re far too wise to believe in anything as silly as the Tooth Fairy. But that molar’s still under your pillow. And I’m still going to wait until you’re sleeping, my little scientist.