Yesterday the youngest male and female accompanied the benefactor to her place of employment. Despite some internal struggles, they managed to survive the eight-hour day without catastrophe or violence, which felt like a miracle.
The youngest female asked the benefactor if she could get a piece of art needled pricked into her skin whence she turns 19. The benefactor is both terrified and impressed with her ambition to plan the future. Hopefully, however, she will outgrow the notion of getting the names of her parents as said body art.
Last night the youngest female also demonstrated for the benefactor how she plans to kiss one of her future boyfriends using a Styrofoam cylinder. His name was Paul, and the benefactor was sure to remind her that this projection was at least ten, preferably twelve years into the time ahead. She also suggested loosening her grip so she doesn’t inhibit the breath of her future love interest and face possible charges of strangulation.
On this celebration of the nation’s independence, the benefactor and younger children find themselves again at the benefactor’s house of labor, whittling the day away watching pirates and building structures out of molded bricks. Optimistically, the time will pass like sand through the hour glass, and everyone will survive, once more.