Running with Scissors

YES OMG BRÜNNHILDE

official library post

The “Thunk” will always kill me.

14/10 doing his best

this is the one meme that manages to age like a fine wine

the translation is significantly more Soviet in tone than the original, which is great

disabled people are often in permacrisis

there's never enough money each month. there's always an unexpected illness. new symptoms pop up or old symptoms flare up. meds have to be managed always and refilled constantly and any refill has the opportunity to go wrong. any regular care has the opportunity to go wrong. any mistake can send your health spiralling. it's always "i just need to get through this bad patch" but as soon as one ends another begins. another crisis begins in the middle of the last crisis. managing one thing leaves another thing to be neglected until that becomes a major issue and has to be managed asap and the cycle starts anew over and over and over

you're laughing. charles dickens had a son named plorn and you're laughing

Plorn

NICK I LOOKED IT UP AND SAW NOTHING OF THE SORT IS THIS A PRANK

technically his name was edward but everyone called him plorn

I have something worse

oh???

imagine getting stuck with the nickname Plorn

WHY WERE THEY SO CRUEL TO MY BOY PLORN

Born without a groove 😔

Watching my toddler figure out how to language is fascinating. Yesterday we were stumped when he kept insisting there was a “Lego winner” behind his bookshelf - it turned out to be a little Lego trophy cup. Not knowing the word for “trophy”, he’d extrapolated a word for “thing you can win”. And then, just now, he held up his empty milk container and said, “Mummy? It’s not rubbish. It’s allowed to be a bottle.” - meaning, effectively, “I want this. Don’t throw it away.” But to an adult ear, there’s something quite lovely about “it’s allowed to be a bottle,” as if we’re acknowledging that the object is entitled to keep its title even in the absence of the original function.

Another good post to read for those writing small human characters. 

My son was about three when he came to me in the middle of the day and said, “Mommy, there’s a knight behind the bush.” I thought he meant a toy knight or something. So I follow him outside and he goes, “Listen. Do you hear it? It’s night behind the bush.” It was a cricket. A cricket was standing in the little patch of shade under the bush, chirping. So, my son saw this dark area with accompanying nighttime sounds and decided, okay, well, that is a night right there. Their brains are incredible.

My little bean knows she’s two, constantly saying proudly ‘I’m two!’ And the other day she saw this very frail old lady who looked one foot in the grave, pulled a face and said ‘oh shiiiit. She’s three.’ I almost screamed.

OH SHIT SHE’S THREE

This is the Carrie Fisher post of body positivity reblog for a chocolate bar from her fridge