Prednisone

It's fall, and Max's asthma is really bad. So is Jawbitch's. Max is taking Prednisone. It's making him a little wacky.

Max, with tapemeasure in hand: The foreigners cleaning my room are touching my stuff.
Jawbitch: You need to put your magic tricks away.
Max, measuring the bathroom walls: I need to put up some sheetrock and build a miniature room to put my stuff in so that they can't touch it.
Jawbitch: Why don't you go through all your toys, and get rid of the baby toys? Then you will have more room to put your stuff away.
Max: Good idea, Mom!
Jawbitch: Just make three piles: one for your little cousin Alex, one to give away, and one for stuff you throw away.
Max: ok . . .

Several hours later, Jawbitch inspects the piles. There's a small one for Alex, a large one for goodwill, and hardly anything in the throwaway pile.

Jawbitch: What's up with the giveaway pile? Most of these toys are broken. Other kids shouldn't get broken toys.
Max: That's ok, the church kids don't know any better anyway.