22 CommentsShare: |
Subscribe
;

Cash!!! Coming out of the woodwork!
This old farmhouse has an attic. There are windows upstairs. But in the attic bedroom the boys share, there are only windows on the side of the house. Where are those front windows? The mystery of how to get into the part of the attic where those windows are has driven them nuts for two years. Even I don’t know how to get into the part of the attic where those windows are. My cousin blocked it off. I figure it’s where some heavy piece of furniture is, hiding the entrance. Anyway, even I don’t know.
And then…. They found money. Falling out of the wall. FALLING OUT OF THE WALL. In the staircase that goes up to the attic. Okay, just about anything could fall out of a wall around here. But money???? And not just any money. Confederate money.
We’re rich!!! The children are practically in spasms. We’ve got to take the money and sell it. They knew this house was good for something! No more complaints about old houses! Old houses have old money! And it’s theirs! They’re rich rich rich!
Waitaminute. This house isn’t ours and anything that falls out of the attic walls doesn’t belong to us. We need to go tell the cousins.
NO! I am insane. I am cruel. I am brutal! Anything that falls out of any walls around here belongs to the children! Finders keepers! In fact, the children are ready to tear the walls apart to see what else of value is lurking inside there!
Uh, no. No tearing walls apart. Anything we find must be shown to the cousins.
Well. Next time they find something FALLING OUT OF A WALL, they aren’t going to tell me. In fact, they’re going to start tearing the walls apart right now.
I drag them next door with their pile of crumbling loot. My cousin takes one look at it and points out, ‘It says PLAY MONEY right there.”
Oh.
I say, “I’m sorry about tearing that wall apart then…..”
My cousin almost totally recovered after I told him I was just kidding.
Posted by Suzanne McMinn | Permalink
If you would like to help support the overhead costs of this website, you may donate. Thank you!
"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
Make friends, ask questions, have fun!
Be a part of something big.
Prints and Free Wallpaper!
"Cookies are good." Read my barnyard stories....
Entire Contents © Copyright 2004-2012 ChickensintheRoad.com.
Text and photographs may not be published, broadcast, redistributed or aggregated without express permission. Thank you.