Snowballs and Neighbors

Nelly recently suggested that for Christmas this year I should get a swear jar.  In case this is a new concept, each time I swear I would have to deposit money in the swear jar to be saved up for a family treat.  Apparently she thinks my language is unacceptable but, as usual, I retaliated by saying if they'd just clean up after themselves every once in a while, do their homework and not fight with each other I wouldn't have any reason to swear.  Sometimes I feel a bit guilty for being mean to the kids, no matter how much they are asking for it.  As an example, I used to have a disciplinary tool called "The Gunner's Daughter."  The Gunner's Daughter was a wooden spoon with it's name on the handle and "Kiss The Gunner's Daughter" on the end.  This is a reference to a battle ship where, as a punishment for doing something wrong, the sailors would have to give the Gunner's Daughter a kiss.  She was obviously not the most attractive girl in the world so it was an extreme punishment to have to kiss her.  The difference between the original Gunner's Daughter and mine is that mine is the one who would do the kissing, usually on top of the head.  I'm not exactly sure how, but The Gunner's Daughter mysteriously disappeared long ago.  Now that I think of it, I believe it's time to welcome a new Gunner's Daughter in my house.

Yesterday something happened that made me feel much better about how I treat the little psychos.  Yesterday an old friend asked if  some of my kids wanted to go sleigh riding with their family at the golf course.  When they came home sooner than I expected, I knew something must have happened and couldn't wait to hear the story.  According to my sources, the friend's son hit his unsuspecting dad in the face with a snowball when he wasn't looking.  Obviously upset, he expressed his displeasure by yelling, "Oh really, Dip$hit?  Get your @$$ down here."  When the son declined, he insisted, "No, really, get your @$$ down here."  Laughing hysterically, the son walked down the hill to his dad who promptly grabbed him and threw him down the hill.  Needless to say, the laughing ceased immediately and tears followed.

I love stories like this because they remind me that even the best dads get pushed over the edge by their children from time to time. As a true journalist, I am bound by the ethics of my profession never to reveal the identity of those mentioned in this blog, so don't even ask.

P.S.  Thank you Alyce for dedicating the picture from your vacation of the girl in her bikini to me.  That literally made me laugh out loud.