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Here are some fabulous little short, sweet, stories! Most of these hold a lesson to be learned. So please feel free to bookmark this page! And if you are ever in need of a moral uplifting....Always feel welcome to cme back and read and RE-read all of these stories! If you have any that should be added...E-mail Me!
Mommy Brain
If you've left the crayons to melt in the car, And forgotten just where the car keys are, There's a perfectly good way to explain: You see, you've come down with "Mommy Brain." When you're not sure where the past 8 hours went, Or whether the phone bill check's been sent, If you've left the laundry drying in the rain, It's just---you guessed it---Mommy Brain. If you find yourself chatting for hours on end About diaper prices with your cyberfriends, You've just caught a particularly virulent strain Of that affliction known as Mommy Brain. If you left your bags at the grocery store Or completely forgot what you went there for, If you called the cat by your baby's name, You can bet that Mommy Brain's to blame.  And if you know the words to "Goodnight Moon" by heart, Or you study your sleeping babe like a work of art, If you're always suprised by how time is flying, And the thought of that first birthday starts you crying..... It's unavoidable girls, and I feel your pain, For I, too, suffer from Mommy Brain. But I'll admit one thing---of this I'm sure: I hope they never find a cure

Butterfly Kisses
  We often learn the most from our children.  Some time ago, a  friend of mine punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll  of gold wrapping paper.  Money was tight, and he became infuriated  when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the tree.  Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the   next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy."   He was embarrassed  by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found  that the box was empty.   He yelled at her, "Don't you know that  when you give someone a present, there's supposed to be something  inside of it?" The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and  said, "Oh, Daddy it's not empty.  I blew kisses into the box.  All for you,  Daddy." The father was crushed.  He put his arms around his little girl,  and he begged her forgiveness.  My friend told me that he kept that gold  box by his bed for years.  Whenever he was discouraged, he would take  out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it  there.

The Caring Child
Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked about a contest he was  asked to judge.  The purpose of the contest was to find the most  caring child.  The winner was a four year old child whose next door  neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.  Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard,  climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.  When his mother asked him what  he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just helped him  cry."      
Two Nickels and Five Pennies
   When an ice cream sundae cost much less, a boy entered a coffee  shop and sat at a table.  A waitress put a glass of water in front of  him.  "How much is an ice cream sundae?"  "Fifty cents," replied the  waitress.  The little boy pulled his hand out of his pocket and  studied a number of coins in it.  "How much is a dish of plain ice cream?"  he inquired.  Some people were now waiting for a table, and the  waitress was impatient.  "Thirty-five cents," she said angrily.  The little boy again counted the coins.  "I'll have the plain ice cream." The  waitress brought the ice cream and walked away.  The boy finished, paid  the cashier, and departed.  When the waitress came back, she  swallowed hard at what she saw.  There, placed neatly beside the  empty dish, were two nickels and five pennies - her tip.      
What It Means to Be Adopted
   Teacher Debbie Moon's first graders were discussing a picture of  a family.  One little boy in the picture had a different color hair   than the other family members.  One child suggested that he was  adopted and a little girl named Jocelynn Jay said, "I know all  about adoptions because I was adopted."  "What does it mean to be  adopted?" asked another child.  "It means," said Jocelynn, "that you grew  in your mommy's heart instead of her tummy."      
   As I was driving home from work one day, I stopped to watch a local  Little League baseball game that was being played in a park near my  home.  As I sat down behind the bench on the first-baseline, I asked one  of the boys what the score was.  "We're behind 14 to nothing," he  answered with a smile.  "Really," I said. "I have to say you don't look very  discouraged."  "Discouraged?" the boy asked with a puzzled look on his  face.  "Why should we be discouraged?  We haven't been up to bat yet."      
Roles And How We Play Them
    Whenever I'm disappointed with my spot in my life, I stop and think about  little Jamie Scott.  Jamie was trying out for a part in a school play.  His  mother told me that he'd set his heart on being in it, though she feared he  would not be chosen.  On the day the parts were awarded, I went with  her to collect him after school. Jamie rushed up to her, eyes shining with  pride and excitement.  "Guess what Mom," he shouted, and then said  those words that will remain a lesson to me:  "I've been chosen to clap and cheer.

The Most Beautiful Flower

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree. Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, For the world was intent on dragging me down. And if that weren't enough to ruin my day, A young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play. He stood right before me with his head tilted down And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!" In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight, With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light. Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I faked a small smile and then shifted away. But instead of retreating he sat next to my side And placed the flower to his nose And declared with overacted surprise, "It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too. That's why I picked it; here, it's for you." The weed before me was dying or dead. Not vibrant of colors: orange, yellow or red. But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave. So I reached for the flower, and replied, "Just what I need." But instead of him placing the flower in my hand, He held it mid-air without reason or plan. It was then that I noticed for the very first time That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind. I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun As I thanked him for picking the very best one. You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play, Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day. I sat there and wondered how he managed to see A self-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree. How did he know of my self-indulged plight? Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight. Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see The problem was not with the world; the problem was me. And for all of those times I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in life, And appreciate every second that's mine. And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose And smiled as I watched that young boy, Another weed in his hand, About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.

How Much Does a Prayer Weigh?
How much does a prayer weigh? There is a story of a grocery store owner who tried to weigh one. A tired-looking woman came into the store and asked for enough food to make a dinner for her children. The grocer asked her how much she could spend. The frail woman answered, "I have nothing to offer but a little prayer." The storekeeper was not very sentimental nor religious, so he said, half-mockingly, "Write it on paper, and I'll weigh it." So she did. The grocer placed the prayer on the weight side of his old-fashioned scales. Then he began piling food on the other side; but to his amazement, the scale would not go down. He finally became flustered and gave the woman a large bag of food. The grocer never saw the woman again, but he treasures the slip of paper upon which the woman's prayer had been written; "Please, Lord, give us this day our daily bread."