Stick

This is Stick. He's almost six feet tall. I had to make a rule that he's not allowed on the patio, because he was swinging around way to close to the many windchimes, hanging glass thingies and windows. And me.

I asked her why she was running around with a giant stick and she said, "Because he's being friendly. He's my new friend."

Later, he was lying down, and she told me he was sleeping. Then he woke up because he had a bad dream, so she carried him around like a baby, but told me, "He's a big boy!"

He was also "talking about all those crazy things."

When I asked what she meant, she said, "You know, just those crazy trees, and crazy table, and crazy shed . . . ." (Fill in whatever she happened to look around and see at the moment.)

I don't even know.