THE GOOSE MOTHER BLOG

OUTTA THE MOUTHS OF BABES….

Some years back, my parents retired and moved from northeastern Pennsylvania to central Florida.  They were quite happy to be leaving winters behind and looking forward to long summers.  I visited them several times and they were totally enjoying the retirement community they had settled into.  The gated community was located on acres and acres of a lush preserve on the outskirts of a midsized town.  Lot’s of recreation facilities and restaurants, a club for just about any type of activity you could think of and social gatherings scheduled every week.

There was an article published in their local newspaper entitled, “A Child’s View of Retirement.”  I offer that article here as it contains some amusing observations, guaranteed to make you smile:

“After a Christmas break, a teacher asked of her young pupils how they spent their holidays.  One small boy wrote the following:

We always used to spend Christmas with Grandpa and Grandma. They used to live here in a brick home, but Grandpa got retarded and they moved to Florida. Now they live in a place with a lot of other retarded people. They ride on big three-wheeled tricycles and they all wear name tags because they don’t know who they are. They go to a big building called a wrecked hall, but if it was wrecked, they got it fixed, because it is all right now. They play games and do exercises there, but they don’t do them very good.

There is a swimming pool there. They go into it and just stand there with their hats on. I guess they don’t know how to swim.

As you go into their park, there is a doll house with a little man sitting in it. He watches all day so they can’t get out without him seeing them when they sneak out to go to the store.

My Grandma used to bake cookies and stuff, but I guess she forgot how. Nobody cooks, they just eat out. They eat the same thing every night; early birds. Some of the people are so retarded that they don’t know how to cook at all, so my Grandma and Grandpa bring food to the wrecked hall and they call it “pot luck.”

My Grandma says Grandpa worked all his life and earned his retardedment.  I wish they would move back up here, but I guess the little man in the doll house won’t let them out.”

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 From visiting my parents, I know of that man in the “doll house” and if your name isn’t on the visitor list, you don’t get in.  No “wrecked halls” or “early birds” for you!  LOL

Honk  Honk

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