The quick, brown fox jumps over a lazy dog. DJs flock by when MTV ax quiz prog. Junk MTV quiz graced by fox whelps. Bawds jog, flick quartz, vex nymphs. Waltz, bad nymph, for quick jigs vex! Fox nymphs grab quick-jived waltz. Brick quiz whangs jumpy veldt fox. Bright vixens jump; dozy fowl quack.
Quick wafting zephyrs vex bold Jim. Quick zephyrs blow, vexing daft Jim. Sex-charged fop blew my junk TV quiz. How quickly daft jumping zebras vex. Two driven jocks help fax my big quiz. Quick, Baz, get my woven flax jodhpurs! “Now fax quiz Jack! ” my brave ghost pled.
It’s in the small things you will find joy.
When my son was very young he was a handful. He really didn’t talk much but he was into everything – all. the. time. I would often find him with pieces of a, now-unrecognizable, small household appliance strewn about deeply absorbed with its inner workings. He commanded constant vigilance if we were to ever have toast or be able to open a can.
One morning, feeling frustrated at not being able to keep him safely occupied, we walked out to the back yard and, beyond the swing set and ride-on toys, there was a single daffodil blooming. It glowed from the morning sun and immediately caught his eye. He looked up at me with his sweet little face full of amazement and said, “Look! We are rich!”
Truer words were never spoken.