Case in point, Miles asked me recently what guts are. You know... guts. What comes to mind? Something gross, I bet. Being the great mother I am, I told him what they are -- your insides and I pointed to his belly. He giggled like the Pillsbury Doughboy when I poked him in the belly.
From that point on, Miles has been going around pointing to his abdomen and saying, "I have guts!" He's even tried tickling my guts. "Mama! I'm going to tickle your guts!" Or he requests that I tickle his.
So yeah, Miles has guts. Apparently we all do.
Watch out, to those who might see Miles in the near future, he may try to tickle your guts.
That's my boy.
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3 comments:
Is this like the evolutionist trying to criticize the creationist? You mean I'm not made of metal and wiring inside?
Michael - I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news. You aren't made of metal. You are made of guts.
Hello. I'm a single father from the Philippines. I think you should ask your son first what he really mean of guts. Because I think your answer to his inquiry is wrong. In my own point of view, guts, is the confidence to do certain job or work. PEACE..!!
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