Everything starts with a problem
Ladies and gentlemen, there is a flaw in the system, a bump in the road, a fly in the ointment, a wrench in the machine, a big clod mucking up the butter churn, a rock in the garden, and I don’t mean one of those pretty ornamental rocks. Lots of folks have those, and they actually make a very nice border. No, I mean one of those pesky rocks that you can’t dig out, even though you try for a couple hours. Remember, you can’t run the rototiller until it’s gone because the blades will get ruined. You certainly don’t want the machine throwing the puppy across the yard and through the window of the guy next door. Sure, he’s a nice guy, but a big honking rock through his brand-new windows is certainly going to put a damper on neighbor relations. There’s also the possibility he’ll stop bringing you out a beer when you’re both on the porch. Yup, it’s better all-around that you dig that sucker out with a shovel. Or, have one of your adult sons do it.
You see, that’s what I’m on about. I have two healthy adult sons, eighteen and twenty, who are taller than me. They are very good for doing things like digging out rocks, and other tough projects. I also have a sixteen-year-old daughter, who might be equally as good at rough tasks. Assuming I am able to get her highness to see something my way, which is doubtful. Then again if there were something in it for her, she’d be on the job like a designer dress on a red-carpet starlet.
The problem is identified
This is what adult children are for. Doing the stuff, you no longer want to do. Now that I have adult children my life is just fine. I see a job I don’t want to do, all I’ve got to do is whine a bit and an adult child will step right up, tell me to sit down and rest to avoid breaking something, and then they do the job. This is great stuff. I never knew I could be so happy. This is my reward for waiting and wading through, sleepless nights, mounds of diapers, trips to kiddie spots, clowns, school projects, countless diseases both named and unnamed, and the inevitable answer, “I don’t knoooow?” after you ask why they covered the dog in bubble gum, and stuck it to TV screen two feet off the ground. At least a few minutes later I got a further answer, “Trixie was the star!” It didn’t cover the price of a new television, or the grooming and extensive mental anguish therapy for the dog, but it was something.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not putting the knock on small children. Young kids are great. Frankly, I’ve made lots of cash entertaining young ones at these very kiddie spots I mentioned before. I’m just saying that it’s nice to come home after doing all the kiddie magic and songs and have one of your adult children run and get you some beer from the store. I am so close I can taste it. I want nothing to interfere with that, and you’d think at their ages it would be smooth sailing to the finish line, but no there are always bumps in the road of life, flies in the ointment, wrenches in the… Well you know.
We are in the season of Easter. Due to commercialism, Easter has taken a twofold meaning. It is a very solemn holiday for Christians around the world, and it has also taken on the honor of welcoming spring with bunnies, chicks, eggs, and of course candy. My family always celebrated both sides of the season, but I have informed my kids that sadly due to world population the Easter Bunny doesn’t visit children over the age of ten. Of course, he exists I would never admit I lied to my kids. Also, this is a story they can take to school and tell the doubters. If a child says the bunny isn’t real, my kids just shake their heads and say, “Poor deluded soul”.
The problem with being smart like this is that even with a child of twenty, they still want to color eggs and have an easter egg hunt. I should be done with this stuff. I don’t want to get up extra early and hide plastic eggs. I tried to tell the kids not this year, because they were too old for that, but they ran to my wife for support. Once she joined them it was all over for me. She thought it was cute they still wanted to have these traditions. I’m sorry but we stay up very late on Saturday night and just once I would like to sleep in.
Unfortunate Holiday Traditions
Then after hiding eggs for an hour, do I get to sit back and drink a cup of coffee? Nope! I have to get out the camera and take the pictures. That’s right. There I am chasing adults around the house, while they find Easter eggs. I’m an adult but I never get any eggs. Doesn’t seem fair, does it? The real tragedy is when you are half asleep hiding eggs, you forget where you hide half of them. Twenty minutes into the hunt, they start asking for hints and I haven’t got a clue. I might know where the coffee is, but the eggs, not a chance. On a normal year we’re still finding eggs for two weeks after. Our personal record is an egg that was found in August by a picnic guest. That brought some laughter, but Louise did get to keep the stale jellybeans that was inside.
The other side of this coin is the dying of the eggs. There is a serious issue with this. My children are extremely creative and really come up with some beautiful works of art. The thing is eggs, even boiled don’t last very long. Everyone wants to dye a dozen eggs, but no one wants to eat them. Especially the beautiful ones. So, they sit in my refrigerator, and sit, and sit. I would love to make an egg salad but I’m not allowed to break them, but if I don’t break and use them, they become little stink bombs. It’s always a fine line as to what can be done. I’ve contacted the Louvre and several museums over the years but they only want the pictures. The only eggs they’re interested in are from Faberge. I can see that.
The real issue about older kids coloring eggs is you can’t cut corners. When they were younger cheep dye was fine. Now they know better, but I still have to pay for the stuff. Some of the things they want cost big bucks. My one son uses paint brushes, and if the dye isn’t right, he has no problem in letting me know. Last year I forgot to buy vinegar, and apparently his dyes need that for the vibrant colors. I was in the daddy doghouse for a month. I learned my lesson. This year I have everything I need.
With no solution
Egg-cept for my sanity!
Thank you for laughing and Please read a little longer
Thank you all for laughing with me, but I need to be serious. Alpha-1 Antitrypsin Deficiency is a genetic disease which rots the liver and lungs. There is no cure. The only help for people is to have a weekly infusion of proteins to stop the spread. For the next few months I will be taking all my proceeds and donating them to the Alpha-1 Foundation who are searching for a cure to this horrible malady. You can give here or for more information go to Alpha-1.org Thanks for supporting world laughter, and finding a cure. Laugh On