It's Scarier Than Black Pots.

Yesterday, we had to take a tour of the kids' great-great-uncle's place while the daddies were making sure the Easter Bunny had come by. Great-Great-Uncle's place is full of small palm trees and black pots because G-G-U got them at rock-bottom prices when a palm-tree truck turned over on the highway. (You think I'm kidding. Unfortunately, I am not.) We're wandering around in the cold, killing time and Maddy says:

"I think we should go back now. I'm getting scared."

I say, "What's scary? Why are you scared?"

"I'm scared of all of these black pots. These black pots are very scary. We should go back."

We start going back and there are lots and lots of black pots along the way. At the very end of the trail, there is a white pot.

I say to Maddy "Look out! There's a white pot at the end of the trail! Don't look at the white pot!"

She replies, "White pots are OK, Mom. White pots are OK. Black pots are not OK."

I guess I'm clear now.