That’s a favorite around the tree house… it is. Especially poor Basil. Of course, Susan has her fans, but being assaulted by bears… that’s just tops. All the nieces have this in book form. Indeed, all the wee critters of my acquaintance have it.
Huh.
Do I have to say that I am NOT responsible for this state of affairs?
Fine.
I’m totally not responsible for this state of affairs. It just happens that, entirely by coincidence (really), all of my sibs and minions share my taste in children’s literature.
Titus flying into bits is a huge hit amongst the wee ones. They have no taste. Basil… totes.
Anyway… ’round about now I’m supposed to be wishing everyone a happy new year. Imagine. I’ll not be doing so. (Surprised?) Here’s the thing (read this ever so carefully): Wishes don’t make things happen.
Got that?
I mean… you folks do realize that if my wishes were of any material significance whatsoever that a really very large, metallic asteroid would have struck the planet years ago. It would… had wishing been able to make it so. Then there’s all the really quite dismal plagues and other devastations.
Nope… I think I’ve pretty much demonstrated that wishing is somewhat less effective than a tinker’s damn… not that there are all that many tinkers about, or that they’ve been damning anyone lately… whatever.
