Withapologies to Dr. Seuss…Itwas my favourite story when I was growing up.Let’sface it, my imagination just filled in any troubling (ie. frankly impossible) potholesin the plot.Stilldoes, in point of fact.Ahem…Hortonwas an elephant who lived in the jungle. Friendly and kind-hearted, he wasnearly always the first to offer help when needed—even when said offer may be alittle…complicated.Onthis particular day, Horton happened to be walking past the nest of Mrs. Mayzie,a bird who lived in the neighbourhood.Mayziehad laid an egg and the euphoria of anticipating her ‘blessed event’ had, howcan we say this judiciously?...erm…worn off.Shewas ready for someone else to take over so she could take a well-earned (in hereyes) break.Anunfortunate word when talking about an egg, but let’s just go on from there,shall we?Now,I will admit that it took a little convincing, but soon, Mrs. Mayzie (that lazybird) was winging her way to Palm Springs ‘for just a day or two’ and Horton—heof the several lovable tons—was sitting in her tree, gently keeping her eggwarm and comfortable.Let’sthink about that for a moment, shall we? Firstly: An elephant. In a tree.Andsecondly: Said elephant sitting so gently on a bird’s egg that it wasn’tcrushed into an eggy nothingness.Now,I probably don’t have to tell you that five-year-old Diane swallowed this storywhole.Dianeof later years filled in a lot of potholes (see above).Backto my story…NowHorton, because he was loving and dependable, or, in his words, "An elephant's faithful, onehundred percent!" stayed on that Lazy Mayzie’s egg for nearly ayear.He suffered through storms, ridicule andfinally hunting season and not once did he falter in his task.I keep wondering what he ate. (Can one ordertake-out in a jungle?)Thehunters who had discovered him during the aforementioned hunting season, ratherthan do anything hunter-ish, decided they might make a bit of money off him ifthey dug up the tree—elephant, egg and all—and hauled the whole kit andkaboodle to a circus.Whichthey did.Therefollowed an arduous trip through the jungle, over mountains and across heavingseas.Idon’t know about you, but when I’m anticipating a ‘blessed event’, the lastthing I want to be doing is crossing heaving seas.Gulp.PoorHorton could do nothing else but endure. And finally, he, his egg, and his treereached their new home.Inthe middle of a circus.Where—you’veprobably guessed it—they were instant draws.Peoplecame. They stared. They discussed.Theymarvelled.Nowthis will probably come as no surprise but coincidentally, Lazy Mayzie’s ‘day ortwo’ Palm Springs spa was just down the road!Whowould have guessed?Andour sweet little mother-to-be just happened to be in the mood for some big-top entertainment.Imaginethe surprise when she and Horton clapped eyes on each other.Ofcourse, Mayzie probably would have simply faded happily back into the audience,except that, at that very moment, the egg—that very egg Horton had been sittingon for 51 loooong weeks—started to hatch.AndMayzie, now that the work was all done, decided she was ready to be a mom.Wordswere exchanged–well, mostly screamed—and by Mayzie.AndHorton, he of the perpetually loving nature, backed down the tree and out of hisegg’s life.Andthat’s when things really went sideways.Well,for Mayzie, that is.Becausethe bird that hatched from that egg…Well,that bird looked remarkably like Horton!Yep.Littletrunk and ears and tail.Ofcourse, it also had wings and bird feet, but one can’t have everything.Andeveryone—including the ‘chick’—proclaimed Horton the parent.AndMayzie had to be content with…nothing.Ifound this so satisfying as a child. I mean, she hadn’t done any of the work.Why should she get any of the reward?Andyou know what?Istill think that.
Fly on the wall is our chance, once a month, to share what has been happening in our homes, lives and imaginations!We're so happy you could visit!Now hurry over and see what my sister writers have been up to this month!

Baking In A Tornado

Menopausal Mother