So, I was talking to a friend on the phone this afternoon, out on the porch (because even though it's 107 degrees out there today and even though I supposedly have a superior network, my phone CONSTANTLY drops calls, but that's for another post). We were in the middle of one of those five or ten minute type of goodbyes that we chatty gals do. Ya know, where one thing just keeps leading to another and you just never run out of things to say. Punk had been playing in the dirt under the tree (it's futile to resist) and then trotted around the side of the house. From whence he let out a bloodcurtling scream followed by loud, traumatic crying.

(To get the full impact of this paragraph, you must read it as fast as you possibly can...Go!) My heart stopped as I dashed to get around the corner, yelling into the phone: "Punk just...I don't know. I gotta go. Bye!" Terrible things flooded my mind and I quickly settled on a bee sting. I don't know why, but it made sense then. There he was standing in the middle of the yard, screaming. My quick visual assessment assured me of three things: (1) all limbs remained attached and in proper position, (2) no blood was being spilt, and (3) no body part was being clutched in pain. I swooped him up half-cooing, half-panic-shouting, "What's wrong!?! What's the matter?!" Sobbing violently, Punk squeaked out, "It turned on!" My mind raced through all the possibilities as I followed his glance to....(you can slow down now) the air conditioner unit. I had heard it turn on with a slight bang the split-second before the scream and had tuned it out as a normal part of life in the desert. But apparently, the unexpected noise jolted Punk out of his toddler fantasy world a little too quickly for comfort.

This occurred about 3 hours ago. I'm still chuckling. But, Punk still refuses to see the humor. Which makes me chuckle all the more!

Maybe it's a case of "it takes one to laugh at one"!