Monday, February 27, 2006

Mouths of Babes

Last night, as I was internet surfing, my daughter, the sports fan, walked into my office and proclaimed, “I love the Detroit Red Wings, Dad. I’m going to marry them. All of them. I’m going to have a lot of men so that they can take care of all of my babies. I’m going to have lots of babies too. Then I’m going to marry Mason (her three-year-old brother).”

Naturally, I was quite surprised to find out my daughter was Mormon, but I took comfort in the fact that she was only five years old and things said like this are still supposed to be cute. I am sure that if she had made this proclamation at 16, I would have had under psychiatric care before breakfast time.

About ten minutes after informing me of her impending nuptials, my daughter went back upstairs to play with her brother. It was not long before I heard a loud crash followed by the unique sound of hard molded plastic coming into contact with a pre-schooler’s exposed flesh. I then heard Mason’s screams of pain and enragement. When these died down, there was a brief moment of silence followed by a blood-curdling primal scream that originated from the vocal chords of my daughter as she tearfully begged her brother to let go of her hair. Being a merciful soul, he apparently did and she immediately turned on him, sparking an all out brawl that, though I did not see it with my own eyes, was probably quite a spectacle based upon the audible assault I experienced from below. I probably should have stepped in and tried to stop the carnage at some point but I figured that I would just let it run its course. That way there would be at least one less wedding I would have to pick up the tab for and possibly a couple dozen, depending upon who came out of the melee on top.

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