Rocks in his ears and other brilliant descriptions

wet cat with reduced social skills
Wet cats aren’t friendly

“My head is not relaxed and there are bees stinging in my throat,”  said The Eight Year old this morning.  A swift aargh confirmed a red raw throat and a ticket to a day off school.

One other time he complained of having rocks in his ears which turned out to be a particularly nasty ear infection.

Quite clearly he is a child genius and destined for literary greatness.  In the meantime we enjoy how he articulates his different view of things.

Inspired by my poorly son I looked for descriptions from other people that paint a picture so true they make you smile.  Here are some of my favourites.

“It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.” ― Maud Hart Lovelace, Betsy-Tacy and Tib

“The bowler approached the wicket at a lope, a trot, and then a run. He suddenly exploded in a flurry of arms and legs, out of which flew a ball.” ― Douglas Adams, Life, the Universe and Everything

“He wasn’t that good looking, he had the social skills of a wet cat and the patience of a caffeinated hummingbird” ― Karen Chance

“She had a dour Presbyterian mind and a code of morals that pinned down and beat the brains out of nearly everything that was pleasant to do.” ― John Steinbeck, East of Eden

“Hot weather opens the skull of a city, exposing its white brain, and its heart of nerves, which sizzle like the wires inside a lightbulb. And there exudes a sour extra-human smell that makes the very stone seem flesh-alive, webbed and pulsing.” ― Truman Capote, Summer Crossing

“You could sometimes see her twelfth year in her cheeks, or her ninth sparkling from her eyes; and even her fifth would flit over the curves of her mouth now and then.” ― Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D’Urbervilles

“The duchess turned on Eugène with one of those insolent stares that envelop a man from head to foot, flatten him out, and leave him at zero.” ― Honoré de Balzac, Père Goriot

“The lawn was white with doctors” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

With thanks to Good Reads for the quotes.

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