Monday, November 22, 2010


My son hates surprises.

Any time I've attempted to surprise him I've been met by a blank stare, followed with the inevitable and oft repeated statement: "Mom, I don't really do surprises."

I surprised him when he turned six by blowing up several dozen balloons and covering his bedroom floor with them. When he woke in the morning to his room full of balloons he looked at me vacantly and said "Mom, why are there balloons all over my floor?"

We've had more conversations than I can count which go something like this:

me: I have a surprise for you
son: what is it?
me: I can't tell's a surprise...if I tell you, that kind of goes against the whole nature of a surprise.
son: mom...just TELL me
me: you'll just have to wait
son: mooooooooommmmmm. pleeeeeeeeease just tell meeeeeeeee.
me: nope. (smile)
son: Mom, you do know I'm not really a surprise guy, right?

Yah. I know.
but I keep trying.

I happen to love surprises.

Like the one I received this week when my best friend's husband got a wild notion at one o'clock in the morning Saturday and decided to book me on a train that afternoon to come see them for Thanksgiving. (of course, when I got in last night it was NEGATIVE SEVEN!...SurPRISE!)

But I happily and hurriedly packed up my little suitcase and hopped on the train for a 27 hour ride (delays in the mountains for eighty-four thousand freight trains to move through bumped the trip to 29 hours.)

(eighty-four thousand might be a slight exaggeration.)

Let me tell you, nearly 30 hours in coach is not the most fun you will ever have on a train...but the destination was oh so worth it!

Prompt #30: Write about your favourite surprise. or write about why you love/hate surprises.

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