(That was supposed to be a riff on the "one ring to rule them all" poem but maybe it's mutilated beyond recognition.)
Back in early December my friend Jenny said, "So what are you doing about Christmas shopping?" and I said, "Really, I'm letting Elwood do it. We have these mystery packages arriving and I don't know what's in them but he's great at giving gifts."
And he is great at giving gifts but for some reason this year he went with the theme of "Our Heritage: The Second Amendment" and now I am surrounded by guns. Guns! As guns go, they are pretty harmless: one giant water gun, one Nerf dart gun, two guns that shoot Nerf balls to great whooping battery-powered fanfare, and a set of laser tag guns with matching goggles.
Normally such a list of presents would cause me to say, "Shoot me now." I am not saying it this time, because someone will do it. "Nerf ball, Nerf dart, or would you prefer the cold-water dousing? Happy to oblige!"
The boys are thrilled. I wasn't really overwhelmed until the book arrived: Backyard Ballistics. Because there are not enough projectiles in my little house, I guess. "The problem," my husband explained to his firstborn, "is that this project [a potato cannon, I believe, because just eating potatoes is so predictable] is made to shoot for, like, the length of a football field. So we can't really fire it off in the basement."
I'll say we can't. But raise your hand if you'd be surprised to catch them trying. Cleaning tips for removing exploded potato from the wall would be welcome.
Tea party, anyone? You bring the teddy bears. Ours will be in the stuffed animal hospital -- target practice takes a toll.
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