I’m less than a half mile into a single-track trail run with four guys when the phone in my hand starts vibrating. I never carry my phone, especially on a trail run when it would be easy to trip and smash my phone, but the girls are home alone because Dan is with me (well, sort of…he was up ahead, of course.)

I take my eyes off the trail long enough to glance at the display. Home.  I hesitate, but decide I better answer.

“Only Heather takes calls in the middle of a trail run,” I hear Robb say.

“Mom?” it was Lauren sounding oddly chipper. “So I was just reading your blog and it says if I am nice to Kelly for one week, you’ll get me a bunny.”

Oh, sh@#! She reads my blog?

“It was a joke, Lauren”

“I printed it out, Mom. You said it. I’m writing up a contract right now so you can sign it when you get home.”

“Lauren, I’m in the middle of a run here. I can’t talk now.”

End call.


She greets us at the door with a handful of papers and the biggest smirk I’ve ever seen on her face.

I can’t help but laugh.

Busted by my own big mouth.

“Heeelllooo, moooommm,” she says smugly. “I have the contract here and I made three copies for each of us to sign. I can be good for a week. That’s easy. I am SO getting a bunny!”

I pick mud off my calves as I say, “Lauren, it was a joke. I was trying to be funny.”

“Doesn’t matter, mom. You said it on your blog. It’s right here in black & white. I made copies of it. I have evidence.”

“I didn’t even know you read my blog.”

“Oh, I’m good with computers mom, remember? I’m a geek and I can hack into things.”

“Or click on the shortcut in the menu bar,” I mutter to myself.

“Are you going to read this contract, or what, Mom?”

I stall.

“Later, OK? I have to get a shower and pack lunches and Kelly and have to run up to the mall. I’ll read it when I sit down tonight, I promise.”



It reads: “Mom, you dear bye (which I can only assume means “hereby”), promise if I don’t argue with my sister or talk back for a week I can get a bunny. And for what you said on your blog I have two pages of written proof to show you said this. And you said what you said and mean what you said and I will have a bunny in no time and to prove you were telling the truth you said “h***” and”d***” in the same sentence. And I did some work on my own and found out if you (operative word here: you) clean the cage 1 a week they won’t smell and I all so learned that lion heads are the least smelliest kind. But if you do not agree with this term that’s all right and I can be good for 2-3 months if you want. If you think you are getting nothing out of this you can get me to be good for 2-3 months or a week or maybe forever. This might teach me a lesion (lesson) to be nice like the time I sat for a month on the bus for a year a year now I never stand. From: Lauren”


I haven’t signed the contract yet.  I have to work on an addendum today.

My words got me into this mess, now I’m hoping I can write my way out.

<strong>About Just Write</strong>
“What ends up revealing itself when free writing is that everything has meaning. That is a magnificent gift of writing. If we write from a free heart-gut place, our souls start speaking.”