Boy oh boy, Mr. Crankypants. You don’t want to teach this morning. You don’t want to coach. You don’t want to walk the dogs through the glorious fall leaves. You don’t want to do the improv class tonight, do you?
Mr. Crankypants? Are you listening? You don’t want to listen with all your focus and honor your scene partner, whomever he or she may be, and you don’t want to be creative and playful and provoke laughter and positive growth. I see you there, muttering to yourself about the bad people who stole your string ball…and I know something else.
You aren’t really mister Crankypants. I see you! Peek-a-boo!
That’s you, isn’t it, Mr. Lazypants? Oh, and your twin brother, Mr. Scaredypants! Wait! There’s your sister, under that mask! Ms. Junk Food! How did she fit under that mask with you guys?
You haven’t fooled me. Mr. Crankypants is just a big old fraud. And so are you three lugs.
But the problem is, even though I have seen through your disguise, you still effect me.
So I am going to take care of you. I’m starting with a big, long breath, in……out.
Now I am going to go look at the sky. The rest will follow. Mr. Crankypants, some days I let you win. Not today.
3 thoughts on “Mr. Crankypants”
Ms. Pink Sparkly skirt hears you. And raises you a let it happen.
Does that help?
Oh, no, I dont *know* the answer, I just ask questions and hope they are the right ones!
This won’t do Mr. Crankypants. Put a smile on your face right now. Don’t make me get the clothespins.
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