Be the Duck

Life is so sneaky.
Sneaky like when your little brother tapes the sink sprayer so it blasts your face when you turned the water on. Sneaky like when you run over a tiny nail; not a big enough hole to notice, but just big enough to let the air escape over the next 10 miles leaving you with a flat tire in the middle of banjo country (this is North Carolina, people, we’ve GOT some banjo country). Sneaky like when you think you’ve been rocking your favorite new dress at the Christmas party only to find out your underwear was showing the entire time.
Sneaky, sneaky.
And getting sneakier. Getting more clever, more…. Are you kidding me, what now???
I’ll show you what now:
Lame horse
Naughty puppy destroying the house
Like you could get mad at this face
That we’re trying to sell
Lame horse beating the crap out of himself on stall rest
Naughty puppy creating a league of naughty siblings to help destroy the house that we’re trying to sell
I would like to call my attorney now
Torn liner in pool at the house that we’re trying to sell (huh, it was full when I left this morning)
That’s weird, where’d the water go?
It was most certainly NOT me
Serenity now!
Times like this we must Be The Duck. On the surface they are grace and softness, gliding across the water in an effortless dance. Under the surface, however, their little legs are paddling in a private battle to stay afloat. 
At least I’m not the frog.
Specifically, this frog:
This poor fella was probably hopping along, enjoying a nice day, and called back to his buddies as he jumped from the diving board: “hey guys, watch this! Half gainer with a twist, nothing but net”
I’ll bet his little frog posse was lined up under the tree saying “Should we tell him?” “Nah, he’ll figure it out. Someone get a video.”
Paddle faster, little duck, I think I hear banjos.

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