I've been stitching and stuffing these little Valentine felties this week while Prince Charming and I listen to a series of talks from these good people.
I'm not sure what is driving me to mix blue with my standard red and white this Valentine's 'season'.
But I do know what drove me to include the black heart.
A little bit of guilt.
Mixed with a whole lot of laughter.
I'll tell you about it in this little story we'll call "Blackheart the Postman".
There is a good reason the title is not "Blackheart the Letter Carrier", as you will see.
Blackheart the Postman
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away in a nearby city, there were four little boys and two little girls. They were sick of having to pose for pictures cheerful little childen who lived in a overcrowded cozy little home with...
...their two under-prepared gorgeous, young parents.
As our story opens, the youngest boy and his two little sisters are fighting over playing sweetly and quietly with their building blocks and dollies.
The three older boys are sitting at the dining room table fidgeting and grumbling dutifully laboring over their school books.
Their overwhelmed stunning and brilliant young mother is teaching them how to carry to the ten's place, sound out the "ough" phonogram, and say their spelling words in American sign language.
The little boys are so sick of enthralled with their studies that when the postman is seen approaching their mail box, they all shout, "Can I go get the mail? reluctantly, though selflessly, ask, "Mother dear, shall I bring in the mail for you?"
Their distracted sweet and gentle mother gives permission to leans upon Techie, the eldest. She is never ever fair and just in dispensing asking favors, having no idea, a sure knowledge of whose turn it is.
Techie walks as slowly as possible eagerly to, and then from, the mailbox. He knows this may be his only escape from the school desk he will benefit from the fresh air and will return to his studies with increased aptitude .
He returns emptyhanded and mumbling.
"Blackheart."
"What did you say darling?" says his wary patient and understanding mother. She knows that Techie and his brothers sometimes try to get away with saying things they shouldn't are waiting for something they ordered to arrive.
"He didn't leave us any mail, so I called him Blackheart," Techie confesses.
"I see," says his mother. "That is a very funny name. You have chosen wisely, Grasshopper Techie."
And, so, from that time forth, the postman was always referred to as Blackheart when he failed to carry a letter to the four little boys, two little girls, and two news-starved generous and talented parents who lived in the crowded little cottage on 15th Street so far, far away.
And he still is.
The end.
I'm sorry, Blackheart.
We know it's not your fault.
But we still blame you.