Jennifer Moody

Someday, I’m going to find the person who invented the whole “jinx” thing and I’m going to make her sit in the back seat of my car, between the Princesses, until she apologizes and promises to pay for their college educations, preferably at institutes strong in linguistics.

It shouldn’t take long. Just a few seconds of listening to them say something in unison, then scream at each other, as one, “Jinx! Double jinx! TRIPLE JINX! ONETWOTHREEFOURFIVESIXSEVENEIGHTNINETEN, you owe me a soda!!” and she’ll be begging me to take her credit cards. Then I’ll get out for a nice, quiet walk and make her drive them home.

I’m guessing this person is related to the kid who came up with, “I know you are, but what am I?” and probably the one copied his sibling until the other kid was driven to inflict blunt force trauma. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn that’s what really happened to Abel.

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