Saturday, May 29, 2010

No More Squirt Guns! Pt.1

Sometimes families experience near horrendous incidents that, because they were averted, end up in laughter – not only for the moment, but also for several years thereafter!

Over the next three weeks, I want to share a story about three young, seemingly well-adjusted whippersnappers … oh, let’s call them Kathy (11), Robert (8), and Bill (5). Any resemblance to any children who might have lived in my house; currently live in my house; share DNA with me; or have any physical resemblance to me whatsoever, will be considered to be purely coincidental, irrespective of the actual and irrefutable facts of the case!

At any rate, during the early childhood years of the aforementioned whippersnappers, Kathy and Bill got along extremely well. To each other, the other could do no wrong. In fact, after a while, we, uh, I mean, their parents began to say that Kathy was a female version of Bill and Bill was a male version of Kathy. Despite the 6-year age difference, they bonded like they had been best friends for 50 years!

HOWEVER, Robert was on a slightly different mission in life. Apparently, he believed that his job was to engage Kathy and Bill in verbal disputes as often as possible, sending Kathy and/or Bill to their parents to lodge complaints. While Kathy and Bill went together like "water and water", Robert seemed to intentionally and gleefully provide the “oil” ingredient to each of them!

If we, uh, again, if their parents had a dollar for each time that Robert had sent Kathy or Bill over the deep end, they would be filthy rich today, with land holdings in over 70 countries and Swiss bank accounts in, well, I suppose that would be in Switzerland!

But, alas, the oil and water mixture did not pay off for any type of financial gain for the parents, but it certainly kept the parents hopping and sometimes entertained.

At any rate, on one glorious sunny school morning in April, as the whippersnappers were getting ready for school, Kathy and Bill decided to share a mirror to fix their hair. I, uh, I mean their dad, is not quite sure of the nature of the sequence of events that unfolded in front of the mirror, although it sounded (or so I am told!) like an “in my space” issue had developed between the two of them.

(Please come back next Saturday for Part 2)

Paul W. Reeves

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