I had this really, really hilarious post planned for today. In fact, I was even in the middle of writing it when there was a knock on my office door. My younger daughter opened it, walked in, and said with an eerie smile, “There has to be blooding.”

I wasn’t alarmed at first because the younger child, besides being autistic and therefore having a certain way with words, often says quirky, offbeat things that pop into her head mostly because she really wishes she could have been a Viking. So I smiled and engaged her in this conversation.

ME: REALLY? Blooding? Are you sure?

CHILD: Uh-huh. There has to be lots and lots of blooding.

ME: That sounds super-gross! Is the blooding from your last Viking raid?

CHILD: No.

ME: Did your Viking horde slaughter some sheep for a feast? ‘Cuz that would be all kinds of awesome blooding.

CHILD: No. There has to be blooding. Outside.

ME: Well, of course you blood people outside, silly! What kind of Vikings drag their victims into the parlor and get blood all over the good furniture?

CHILD: No. There has to be blooding.

ME: Yes, sweetie. You said that. It’s starting to get a little creepy. Have you ever seen that movie with the weird little girls? You’re kind of being like both of the twins.

CHILD: The blooding is outside. Right now.

ME: Um…wait a minute. Where’s your sister?

CHILD: Outside. She is blooding. In her face.

I abandoned the super-hilarious post I was writing and raced outside to find my oldest child had been daintily practicing her baton routine and then accidentally caught it with her teeth (as opposed to the on-purpose-because-we’re-carnie-folk kind of way). I helped her up and held my yucky favorite T-shirt to her mouth as I led her inside, while younger sister kept pointing and saying, “There is a lot of blooding. There is more blooding. And more blooding.” Oddly enough, there wasn’t a lot of funny for about fifteen minutes, so the post will have to wait.