April 22, 2022: At the Joy Council:

I move into the full council and inform them that I have visions from people in the Fifth Realm of the perfection of Earth and all of us living together in peace and harmony. Charlie jumps up on my lap and we send out the transmission after Charlie kisses it.

For Easter the Swizzlers hunted eggs. Charlie said all the kids spent a lot of time decorating them—including even painting them with polka dots and flowers. The eggs did not have eggs in them.

“You crack your egg open and you gotta get it right. Some have puddin’ and some have whippin’ cream and some have Jell-O. You don’t want to mix the green Jell-O or the orange Jell-O with the chocolate puddin’. It was a big joke for us and we laughed a lot. We had to guess which ones was the whippin’ cream. Sometimes you could have two whippin’ creams, but that’s okay.”

“Anything else you wanta tell me, Charlie?”

“I want to tell you that I have a new idea for a comb. I took it from this thing over by your bed and your closet. You remember how we was wringin’ washin’ it?”

(We had an incident some time ago where not one but two of the Swizzlers—one after the other—tried to go through the wringer washer. It wasn’t pretty. The washer was a present for me for one of my birthdays and Charlie used it to wash all the beautiful gowns Liponie made me. It’s a good thing we have a genie on staff.)

“Yes.”

“Well, you crank it but then the problem is that you gotta bring it all the way through and your head won’t go.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I just wanta say that there’s a lot of strategy with that. That’s not the best kinda comb ever! I’m just sayin’ that it’s okay and I didn’t get myself in trouble ‘cause you can always stop the crank.”

“You had your hair in the wringer washing machine?”

“I had it in the wringer and I thought it would be a great idea for squeezin’ out. Somebody who I will not mention a name (I bet it was Pinky) said that my hair was the consistency of a chamois and it would be really easy to wring out. Then, of course, I remembered the wringer. I got a little stuck. Just a little stuck and it doesn’t unwind so good.”

“Yes, it only goes in one direction.”

“I was very patient, and I just sent out a ‘help . . . help . . . help.’ (not HELP, HELP, HELP).”

“Charlie!”

“I was bein’ telepathic anyway. (I guess that’s why he didn’t shout.) But then at one point I decided maybe I should open my mouth and speak. I have this new friend Bob and he’s a snail. He took his time, too, but he got me some help. He was really slow, Mommy. I wanta get him a car.”

“Who did he go to?”

“Well, the first thing he did was he went to the area where all the pizza makin’ is, but nobody was there. But he had lunch. After he had some lunch, he continued on lookin’. He did find Wayland; he used to be Whittlin’ but he don’t whittle no more so now he calls himself Wayland. Wayland recognized that I was in trouble ‘cause he’s a really good listener. So he grabbed the snail up and ran. He also called for the fire department, but, you see, I’m the chief so nobody came.”

“They didn’t hear you telepathically asking for help?”

“No, because I was sayin’ ‘help’ just to anyone within close proximity and the only one was my snail. So Bob did go get some help, but he took his time doin’ it, Mommy!”

“How did you get out of the wringer?”

“Well, as soon as Papa got there he just lifted the two rollers and opened it. I don’t know if you know this, but Papa has abilities. He saves those abilities for emergencies sometimes, and sometimes he doesn’t save ‘em for emergencies, he just uses them.”

“If we’re gonna have the wringer washers around, they need to be redesigned.”

“We’re already talkin’ about a new system, but we wanted it to be like your mommy’s. That’s the thing. I have this thought that it’s really nice to have vintage, but it needs to be upgraded.”

“Yes, but we never would think that anybody would put their hair in a wringer washer, Charlie.”

“I think it’s a good idea. I just think it needs to be fixed so you can flip a little switch and have it lift up so you can pull your hair out. I would have never used a mangle.”

“Oh, gosh, no! Here’s a ruling from Mommy. No more playing around with the wringer washer until you’re gonna be safe. Okay?”

“I was okay. I learned patience.”

“Thank you, Tonas.”

“It was not as dire as you might think, my dear.”

“Thank you for being helpful.”