The Redhead Riter And Santa Claus

I have always been The Redhead Riter because I have always been a redhead and loved to write. However, I used to be a child long before I started this blog.

As a child, I loved going to visit Santa Claus and having my picture taken with him. I still love to go visit Santa and it is one of the few times that I am excited about looking into the camera!

(click, click)

I thought I would show you some of my visits to the big guy in red.




My sister, Audrey, did not like Santa Claus
and it was the same scene for many years when we visited him.
I remember thinking,
"She is messing up the picture!
What a baby!"
Well, looking at the photograph now,
I am just laughing my head off.
Isn't Audrey just so adorable!
Of course, I'm laughing even harder at myself
because it looks like the curls on my head
have a mind of their own
and are going all which-a-way.
Really Mom,
couldn't you have tamed them just a little bit?

(click, click)




No matter which Santa Claus we visited or
if I sat on his lap at the same time or not,
Audrey hated him and would scream her head off.

(click, click)




Eventually, Audrey decided that sitting on Santa's lap wasn't so bad after all.
I think that is because of the candy cane he passed us
after they took the picture.
She still didn't like Santa
and obviously, refused to smile and fake it.
I loved Santa!!!
He always asked me what I wanted for Christmas
and I would say,
"A new doll."
Every year my wish came true.
Who wouldn't like a man that made your wishes come true?
I think I want my own Santa Claus!

(click, click)




I firmly believe that the whole reason I love when men's hair
starts turning white is because of Santa.
He spoiled me!
Santa wasn't demanding,
wasn't mean,
gave me candy
and left me whatever I asked for under the tree at Christmas.

(click, click)




I knew then that Santa Claus just adored me.
I was just as cute at six years old as I was at two years old.
I see all those freckles across my nose and
I can't help that I think redheaded children are too cute.
Besides, I know what Santa was thinking too.

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The Control Shift In The Pouring Rain

This evening at work, almost at once, everyone started texting, instant messaging and calling me on two different phones. I thought it must be the end of the world for sure and either we finally pushed the button to set off a full fledged nuclear attack or Jesus was descending from the clouds.

It was the same message coming through loud and clear...Get out of the building and go home!

Evidently there was a huge storm coming with all kinds of terrible weather forecasts and warnings. Apparently I work so hard, it requires others to tell me that it is going to storm because I'm so oblivious to the outside world.

Anyway, I shut down my computer, locked down the place just in case it would still be there in the morning and headed out the door. Of course, I have to park very far away from my office. No really, I have to park nearly in California and I live in Virginia. Maybe I exaggerate a little bit, but it really is a long walk.

By the time I was about a third of the way to my car, the deluge of water started. At first, my umbrella was doing pretty good, but then the wind got it. I have no idea where the wind even came from, but it started whipping pretty hard.

At this point I was half way to my car without the aid of an umbrella. I was wearing a coat with a hood, so I turned back to the wind and reached up to yank the hood over my head.

I knew that by now the backpack strapped to my back was probably getting soaked. My shoes and slacks were as wet as if I had just waded through the swimming pool and I was having a heck of a time keeping my hood in place because the wind wanted to whip it down.

Just in case you've forgotten or don't know, I'm a bit...hmmmm...neat and orderly without a hair out of place and my makeup on every time I step foot outside of my house. I iron my clothes each morning and my slacks have a stiff, starched pleat. Now you get the picture?!

I don't know if it was the roaring wind in my ears, the rain beating down on my face and getting in my eyes or my PTSD, but I got a little scared and disoriented. I couldn't find my car and I couldn't remember where I had parked.

I felt like crying and then something in my head - a voice said, "Be calm. It is just rain," and so I stood still and closed my eyes in the pouring rain with my hood barely covering my head, my backpack on my back and my shoes underwater in the flooded parking lot. The weather was out of my control and so I needed to shift my attention to taking care of just what I had the power to control and change.

My car was just a few rows over and after my brief moment of gathering my wits, I was able to quickly find it and get inside where it was safe and dry.

Looking in the rear view mirror, I laughed at my reflection. My hair was plastered to my head, mascara ran down my cheeks and water dripped off my nose and chin. Tiny rivers of water flowed from my shoes and a splash of water sprayed when I patted my water logged slacks.

I don't ever remember being that soaked in "good" clothes. The smell of my rain soaked clothes reminded me of something. What was it? It was right on the tip of my tongue. Then I remembered being a bathing suit clad, fair skinned little girl running through the sprinkler in our front yard. My sister, Audrey, with her chubby little legs and ruffled bootie bathing suit kept trying to sit on the sprinkler. The cold water would shoot out of the tiny holes and spray her face. She would suck in her breath, run away laughing, then turn around to come back and do it again. My very young, golden brown tanned mother stood laughing and smiling at us both. That look in her eyes, I realize now, was unmasked love of a mother for her children.

How did that much time pass already?

Life is going to happen every day. We often have the illusion of control and power over everything around us, however, it simply isn't true. I can control me and you can control you. We can't control the weather, sky, the billions of people in China, the little fish in the sea, our friends, parents, children or spouse.

Our experiences will include the happy, exciting, fun, good, indifferent, sad, unpleasant, devastating, traumatizing and soul wrenching times. Through it all, we have to take a moment to relinquish control and shift our attitude.

It is not easy or even pleasant, but it is entirely necessary to our progression and sanity to take time for introspective meditation and positive self-talk.

Today my control was washed away in a parking lot where I was soaked to the skin with fresh rain, and I sat in a cold car remembering the innocent time of youth, love for my little sister and the joy of being my mother's child.

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Peeking Grass

There's been quite a bit of snow and sleet visiting Richmond, Virginia lately. Of course, I welcome the silently falling white crystals because for some reason, it lightens my mood and helps me feel optimistic. I'm almost like a child when I see snow and even feel like squealing with delight.

Most of the time I contain myself.

Mom, my sister and I have always lived within thirty minutes of each other except for about a year when I went to a prestigious university located in beautiful snowy mountains and when we were all making our pilgrimage from Texas to Virginia. The older I get, the more thankful I am that we live close to each other.

My sister is four years younger and I can remember everything about her being young. I desperately wanted a sibling and when Audrey was born, I felt that my sister was my baby no matter what anyone else believed or said. Mom and Dad didn't mind and even let me name her, so I really felt bonded.

I remember the first time Audrey saw snow. It was a sunny day and the snow had been falling for hours and was several feet deep. I was ecstatic! Mom bundled us up in our coats so that we could play in the fluffy flakes.

Audrey wore a brown plaid coat with a hat that framed her rosy pink chubby cheeks. Her big brown eyes were in awe at the vast white that covered our yard. At the edge of the patio, the roof had slightly blocked the falling snow so grass could be seen peeking out of the whiteness.

Audrey was terrified of the grass!

She screamed and cried. I was baffled, but thought she was cute even when she cried. I was a very skinny child, but that didn't stop me from picking up the chubby little bundle and walking into the snowy yard with her. Her face pressed against mine and her silky blond hair tickled my nose. I desperately wanted to scratch the itch it created on my nose, but I didn't dare set her down in the snow yet. I could feel the heat from her smooth, baby face as she rested it on my freckled one. I loved her so much at that moment. It was life changing and was etched in my memory forever.

I had only walked a few steps away from the patio, but the snow was much deeper. I encouraged Audrey to reach out and touch the cold, white flakes. Her big brown eyes searched mine and then she leaned over slightly to touch the snow. Her lips made a little "o" and her eyes opened even wider in excitement.

When I ran outside to take pictures of the glittering flakes in the bright sunshine this week, I immediately recognized the familiar sight of the grass peeking through the snowflakes that were softly laying on the ground and immediately thought of Audrey.

"A sister is a little bit of childhood
that can never be lost."
~Marion C. Garretty~

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Chuckle of the Day - Doctor and Mrs. Doolittle

As I'm sure you already know, Doctor John Dolittle appears as the the main character who can speak the language of the animals in a series of children's books by Hugh Lofting.

That was in the fictional world.

Wild animals are not comfortable around humans in the real world.

Lots and lots of deer not only walk through my sister and brother-in-law's yard, but they also sit and rest. Obviously, the deer feel comfortable relaxing in the company of this lovely couple.

I know that secretly they are the real Doctor and Mrs. Doolittle.



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Remember Me

There's always so many things to do, places to go and people to see. Often it is just a rat race. Our lives are filled with "things" that are not important and that cause us to be endlessly busy.

I do not want that type of life.

I do not have that type of life.

My life has been narrowed down to the basics. Part of the reason was to be sure I was focusing my attention on the activities that added value. For instance, I stopped shopping just for the thrill of it a long time ago. I no longer get a high from purchasing items I don't need and end up regretting later anyway. I just don't get caught up in the purchase. I also prefer getting homemade gifts because it tells me that the person loved me enough to take the time to put together something with their own hands. They thought about me.

My calendar does not have every minute of every day planned with an activity. As a matter of fact, it is mostly blank because it allows for carefree timelessness. I want to spend the rest of my life in activities with my family, doing things that will also add value to their lives. I don't want to die and be forgotten.

I want to be remembered.

Don't we all have that desire?

That isn't a morbid thought, but just a simple reality. I want to have mattered. I want to be remembered as someone whose heart was filled with love, compassion, tenderness and found joy in helping others. Just as I overlook everyone's faults and weaknesses, I want others to do the same for me.

Aren't we all just trying to live a happy life?

I was talking to Mom on the phone this week and she randomly said, "I was looking at all my pictures and realized how old they looked."

Since we had just been talking about Alyssa turning 17, I assumed she meant my daughter, Alyssa and my niece, Brittany. "Yes," I said, they have really grown into beautiful young women."

Much to my astonishment, she said, "No, I mean you and Audrey."

"What?!"

"I can't believe you and your sister look so old now," she said rather calmly and somewhat bewildered.

She even sounded distressed by it.

I wasn't offended. Actually, it just reiterated the fact that I do not want to have a frivolous life because even my mother realizes that time is truly slipping by us all. The rest of the day I kept thinking, "Am I wasting my life? Is my life filled with the important things? Can I stand at the feet of my Savior and not be ashamed?"

I am even more dedicated to leaving behind a legacy of good memories. For the record, I feel forgiveness for everyone who has hurt me. My heart no longer carries hatred for the wrongs done against me. Believe me when I say that was a huge undertaking. There are still scars and the memories creep in to make me sad, but hate is gone. It is such a relief to have let it all go.


I also want Alyssa to know that I have forgiven everyone, whether they asked me to or not. This is an important thing we each need to do. Hatred wears us down and cankers the soul. It's just not worth harboring negativity.

I love Alyssa with all my heart and every fiber of my being. She is and always will be the sunshine of my morning. She is the fulfillment of the best of motherhood. Alyssa is forgiveness, love, fun, perfume, shoes, electronics and big brown eyes under silky blond hair.

I love my mother beyond words. She gave me life, love and beliefs that shaped everything about me. She is compassion, lace, fabric, sewing needles, chocolate fudge, big hair, self-consciousness, sacrifice, love and long prayers.

I love my dad because he's my dad no matter which way you look at it. He will always be Old Spice, Elvis' hairstyle, fuzzy socks, crisp shirts, and a heart that aches to be loved.

I love my sister who I begged my parents to give me. I have more memories with her than all the words written on the internet. She is underwater tea parties, Barbies in the bathtub, brownies, a bird's nest, and static filled blond hair tickling my nose when we jumped in the bed to sleep together.

I love my niece, Brittany, who is the child of my heart with flaming red hair. She is library books, a tender heart, quick tears, red fingernails, lots of love and a quick, intelligent mind.

And I love the three T's...Terry (Audrey's husband), Tom (Mom's husband) and the other Tom (my husband). Each have their own talents, strengths and a specialness that has made us all love them. Each has touched my life and brought me comfort when my soul has cried out in pain. For that I can not thank them enough and I love them more than they really could possibly know.

So in this somewhat rambling, stream of consciousness type posting, I hope that you can walk away with at least one thing...love.

Love your family.

Hold them close and tight.

Fill your lives with activities to cultivate the loving bond.

I'm feeling more like the song Brooks and Dunn sings called Believe,

I raise my hands, bow my head
I'm finding more and more truth
in the words written in red
They tell me that there's more to life
than just what i can see
Oh i believe

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Hula Hoop

When I was a little girl, my mother was still quite young herself. I guess you could say that in a way, we grew up together. Mom had a great body. She's probably going to get me for saying that, but she did and her skin was a perfect bronze color. It was quite a contrast...Mom's beautiful flawless tan and my stark white, freckled skin.

We spent many hours outside together. Mom did her sunbathing in the backyard. She spread out a lawn chair and when she was laying on her tummy, I would rub baby oil on her back and legs. When I was finished, I would run back and play on the little back porch in the shade.

When Audrey was born (she is four years younger and my only sibling) I spent much of my time trying to prevent her from eating dirt, grass and flowers. As a child her actions totally baffled me because I had no desire to eat any of those things and she was insistent on eating them! Thinking back now, it is quite hilarious. Other times she would sit and stare at me while I played and watched intently. We were both really calm children and I was great at entertaining myself which made playing always fun.

One of my favorite toys was a bright pink hula hoop with little balls in it that made a great clinking noise when you were good at keeping it circling your waist. At first, like anyone else, I was terrible at keeping the hula hoop going around and around, but as time passed, I could hula hoop for a very, very long time and often did so. I was good enough to not only keep it on my waist, but I could do it around my neck, arms, wrists, legs and ankles.

When Brittany and Alyssa were older, they both had their own hula hoops. Although they played with them sometimes, neither of them were as crazy about hula hooping as I had been as a child. I think the fact that there were no electronic gadgets to play with when I grew up is the reason that the hula hoop was a bigger thrill to me than them.

Sometimes it is hard to believe that so many years have passed since those long, lazy summer days with Mom especially when the clinking sound of the hula hoop is still vivid and fresh in my mind.

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A Contest, the Birth and My Life

Do you remember when I said that my blog was giving birth to multiples? Well, the babies are overdue, but I'm pretty sure they will be delivered naturally the weekend of October 10th. It has been an arduous pregnancy and I think my family is ready to either commit me to an asylum forever or visit me in the cemetery. To their defense, I have been rather obsessive; however, there just isn't enough time in one day! My natural body clock is more like "stay awake twenty-four hours, sleep eight." Obviously, that isn't how the world turns nor is it very conducive to my family's schedule.

The contest will be fun and the giveaway is exciting. I have not only received products from vendors, but I have been shopping. I wanted the whole experience to be "grand" which meant I couldn't have cheap gifts. I've been stashing everything together, so tonight I pulled it all out to look at and added up the value. Wow! The prizes total over $260 so maybe I will split them in half and have a second contest to share the wealth. How does that sound? I think that will be a great way to celebrate the blog birth and then "take a temperature" a few weeks later!

I was looking at the past five months of blogging...I can't believe it has already been five months! It has been only one month since I announced my impending blog birth and THAT feels like it has been much longer. Pregnancy feels that way though, doesn't it?

I remember wanting to conceive a child. It seemed that everyone around me was having one, two, three or more children. My sister and niece lived with me and I had the privilege of playing an important role in both of their lives. The little redheaded girl I write about named Brittany is my niece. Everyone in real life has always mistaken us as mother-daughter and we just go with the flow and I love her like a daughter anyway. It was especially helpful when I had to rush her to the hospital one night because they treated her immediately thinking that I was her mother. My sister wasn't ever jealous because I have been like a mother to my sister too. As a matter of fact, I even mother my mother because I mother everyone! Anyway, obviously my home wasn't "childless" and I did get to enjoy the thrill of so many of Brittany's "firsts." Actually, we started living together when Brittany was close to two and finally moved out from under the same roof when she was twelve. I love them both dearly and cherish all the wonderful memories.

Even with the thrill of having Brittany, my arms and heart ached for a baby. Going to church on Mother's Day or watching the young children sing during the service eventually became an impossibility. The pain was just too great. When I read of the struggles of so many women who are trying to have a baby, my thoughts and prayers go out to them. I had just about given up on ever becoming pregnant and then one day I told myself that I didn't get married because I wanted a "sperm donor" and that I could have a happy life without a child. After "mostly" accepting that fact and almost ten years of marriage, I finally was blessed to conceive and give birth to my sweet daughter Alyssa. That is truly the greatest and most wonderful part of my life. I can say that because from the age of four, the ultimate accomplishment in my mind for me was "motherhood."

Today, I am still a mother, but my marriage suffered and ended in divorce. Several sweet ladies blog about the pain of recent divorces. I feel your agony and depression as you write about your deepest emotions. Life is hard and feels almost impossible when faced with this trial. No one and nothing brings comfort or peace of mind. There is an overwhelming feeling of failure, regret, sadness and depression that is almost too much to bear. But there is no choice other than "bearing it" and living each day...one minute and sometimes one second at a time.

Now that Alyssa is fast approaching the age of seventeen, I am overwhelmed at the speed at which time has passed. I've been with her more hours and minutes than most parents spend with their children (per Alyssa as she compares her life with her friends' lives) and yet it hasn't been enough. That sounds very selfish, but hey, I'm human. I have worn many "hats" in my life, but none have been more fulfilling than being Alyssa's mother. I want to thank her for being patient with my inadequacies and shortcomings.

Being an older mother has its advantages. I have so much patience and enjoy every little thing Alyssa has done from creating a squishy diaper which leaked all over her prissy, ruffled dress, inside her tiny black patent leather shoes, on the recliner, and then plopped and spattered on the floor when I stood up to make my way to the bathroom to clean her; finding her name written with blue crayon in letters twelve inches high on the wall behind the bathroom door and hearing her tell me the reason for doing it was so that she could see her name written really big; finding V-shaped scissor cuts under the arm of the chair and in the lace table cloth on the dining room table, one made by Brittany and one made by Alyssa at different times and different days, but both because they wanted to see what it felt like to cut "real" material; and walking into the kitchen to find that both Alyssa and Brittany were standing precariously on the counter tops searching the cabinets for hidden silly putty. Honestly, I laughed during all of them because these things are just a part of life and looking back, they are hilarious. Why not find humor in gagging at an obnoxious diaper or trying to get vomit chunks out of the carpet? Motherhood is one of the most rewarding experiences this life will ever afford me even with all the messes.

For all my blogging friends who are suffering from loneliness, depression, disease, divorce, death, childlessness, and basic unhappiness, I extend to you my friendship and one quote of wisdom...

"Do not let what you cannot do
interfere with what you can do."
~John Wooden, They Call Me Coach~
On September 15th, I asked, "Are You Beautiful?" Did you internalize the information you found in that posting? I tried to convey the same message earlier when I uploaded many pictures of "Naked Women" art by the masters. We are all beautiful and special. We all have talents that make us unique. Surely you are convinced of that after reading Courage and Uncommon Valor, Willard Wigan-Hopeless Failure?, Are You Amazing?, Not Just An Egg, and even the strangeness of Pete Goldlust-Crayons and Mutations.

As you wait a little longer for my blog to give birth and for someone to win fab-u-lous gifts, think about your own uniqueness and ways that you can add value and happiness to others that are less fortunate. We are all in this together, whether we want to be or not, so let's make it as pleasant a journey as possible for one another.

"You can gain more friends by being yourself than you can by putting up a front. You can gain more friends by building people up than you can by tearing them down. And you can gain more friends by taking a few minutes from each day to do something kind for someone, whether it be a friend or a complete stranger.
What a difference one person can make!"
~Sasha Azevedo, American Actress, Athlete and Model~

Photos of my Alyssa 1993

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Goats In The Living Room

When I was eleven, my mother worked with a very cute, funny, gentle, younger man named John. He was not too tall, not too short, had curly blondish-brown hair that touched the top of his shoulders and a very kind soul. From the eyes of two little girls, my sister and I, he was just perfect and we adored him. The fact that he owned goats just added to his attractiveness because we loved animals.

Mom did not and does not care very much for animals.

Maybe I should say that again...Mom does not like animals and really, really does not like goats.

John was over all the time and spent hours in the swimming pool teaching us to swim. After my parents divorce we were all a bit "fragile" and John helped us forget all the heartache with his laughter. I was always trying to get him to stay longer hoping that mom would just swoon at his feet. We just loved being around his happy personality. In many ways his spunky, young attitude was like his little goats and that's a compliment.

One day, mom wasn't home and there was a knock on the patio door at the apartment where we lived. I could see through the white sheers that it was John and so I slid the door open. When I did, little goats were all over the patio and they walked into the living room making a funny little noise.

We were so excited! As a matter of fact, we were so lost in the moment that we TOTALLY forgot about mom's impending arrival. John had also brought a bunch of bottles for us to feed them. Our excitement with those fuzzy little creatures was almost tangible.

You know what happened next.

The living room was filled from wall to wall with baby goats, my sister, John and me...and then mom got home. I won't ever forget the shocked horror on her face when she saw the new petting zoo located in her home. John, with his perfectly straight white teeth, flashed her a helpless smile. She couldn't be mad at him too much because we were SO HAPPY.

I don't know if mom ever read him the riot act, but that day with us she just acted funny trying not to touch the goats too much or fuss at the drips of milk on the shiny hardwood floor. Eventually, John rounded up the goats, put them in the truck and drove off.

We all still talk about that day with fondness. It was one of those moments when everyone was lost together and nothing else mattered. As I grew older and realized the effort it took for John to bring the goats over and for Mom not to freak out, I decided that I wanted to be that type of person if I could ever have a child. I think Alyssa would tell you that I have freaked her out instead with some of the wild things we have done together. The experience "together" is really the most important moments in your life. Everything else really doesn't matter.

Imagine about ten of them in your living room acting exactly like these little goats in this short clip. How good of a mommy would you be?









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My Famous Family

I want to share with you my "famous family" and introduce you to them in a fun way. I like being able to have that connection of a "name with a face" when I am in a conversation or reading stories in books and blogs and this seemed like a very appropriate way of helping you to also have a visual image.

Aunt Barbara

Teresa (Mom) & Tom (StepDad)

Aubrey (Dad)

Audrey (Sister)

Terry (Brother-In-Law)

Brittany (niece)

Alyssa (daughter)

The Redhead Riter acting like Martha Stewart

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Audrey, Sister And Friend

I can't believe how fast the hands on the clock move. It is pretty simple to figure out which child in the photograph is me, so by default the other child must indeed be my only sibling and sister Audrey. The picture was taken at my grandmother's home - Mama Nell (my Dad's mom). Looking at the photo I can remember the smell of her perfume, Channel No. 5.

I remember being young and telling my parents over and over again that "I want a sister." So when my sister was born, they told me that she was "my baby too" and boy did I run with that one. They let me name her even and since I was a very unusual child, I watched movies far beyond my years and just loved Audrey Hepburn and that is why my sister is named Audrey.

We were inseparable. I believed she was better than any toy I had ever owned or could ever own. Audrey was a fantastic baby and the only drawback I ever saw as a child was that she wanted to sleep too much especially when I wanted to play.

Audrey was a mother's dream. She didn't cry and wanted to sleep fourteen hours straight. She had such a pleasant disposition, big smile, chubby little legs, and perfectly beautiful round head. I remember her laughing all the time.

As Audrey became a toddler our sisterly relationship flourished and I have many memories of our younger days. We also had our little routines. When I was returning home from school in the afternoons, Audrey would be ready and waiting. She could hear the bus coming down the street after it had stopped at the bus stop on the corner. It would start back up making that big engine bus noise and head towards the cul-de-sac where it would drop me off. Our home had hardwood floors and her crib had wheels. Audrey would stand in her crib and rock it until it rolled to the window. Upon reaching the window, she would pull back the curtains and squeal with excitement at seeing the bus go by knowing that I was about to be home. Meanwhile, on the bus by the window, I would watch with great anticipation to see if Audrey was awake and ready to play.

Those were such delightful and carefree days of lady bugs and dragonflies. We played outside every day and there always seemed to be a million things to do. One day when it was really hot, we made a "tent" out of an old sheet in the middle of the garage. The large garage door was open and the screen door leading to the backyard was open. I spent hours drawing and coloring paper to look like food - pork chops, peas, bread, beans. It took forever to cut out the peas and Audrey has never been known for her patience, but she jumped around and eventually sat and watched me. I couldn't really draw pudding, so on that sunny summer day, I took one of my plastic toy cups and went outside in search for "pudding". I put some dirt in the cup and added a little water from the spigot on the back of the house. Then I took the tiny little white plastic spoon and stirred until the mud became the consistency of pudding. During this whole process, Audrey was right there beside me watching me dig for the perfect dirt and stirring until it became smooshie. Eventually we went back into the garage, into our little tent, and piled food on our plates. Audrey watched me pretend to eat the paper pork chop and she copied me. Then she watched as I struggled to keep the peas on the very tiny white plastic toy fork and pretend to eat them while saying, "Yummy peas" and she would copy me. The exciting moment of dessert had arrived and with great pride I scooped some of the mud pudding into our cups being sure that they were equal (I was nerdy like that). We both picked up our cups and I distinctly remember saying, "This is our pudding" and took a spoonful and PRETENDED to eat it. What do you think Audrey did? Yeah, she took a spoonful of mud pudding and stuck it in her mouth and said "Mmmmmm". I, of course in a total panic, screamed for my mother who thought the world was ending by the way I was hollering. Mom came running out, assessed the situation and took Audrey in the house to clean the mud pudding out of her mouth.

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