A jellyfish tried to eat me from the foot up this morning. I punched it in the face and then ran away. You can see on my foot the trajectory the tentacles took before the jelly ultimately just sat its fat ass on my toes. I asked my family members to pee on the sting but nobody would. And they claim that they love me. Whatever.
Grace, age 6, has tapped me to be her best friend and companion this week. She is about to enter Grade 1 (she’s Canadian so they say “Grade 1” instead of “First Grade”; that place is weird), but she thinks it’s going to be easy because she already knows math. I asked her what math she knew and she said “I know 20+5 is 25.” So I asked her what 10+5 was and she answered, “Ten-five.” Close enough. My dad asked her about her teachers from SK (Senior Kindergarten; seriously Canada is so weird) and she said that one of them was really bad. Dad asked her what made a teacher bad and she answered, “Won’t help you when you don’t understand something,” which is such a perfect answer that it basically blew our minds. She’s cool.