Last night I was sitting here at my computer in the study when I heard a loud BANG out front and the sound of tires pealing out. I go out and find the inflatable Penguin deflated with holes and a very large tear in it. Great, the damn neighborhood teenagers have struck again. Awesome. Merry friggin' Christmas.
So after we got home from the Girl Scout outing to the Belle Boyd house (Confederate spy) Carrie is helping me finally string up the icicle lights around the house when she notices the Penguin was down. ("Medic! We got a large balloon penguin down, need bandages stat!") I'm not about to tell her the reason why he's been mortally wounded, so I just explain that he's got a hole in him and won't work.
Carrie proceeds for the rest of the half hour we are out there to declare how awful it is that the poor penguin is hurt, and people will think we're crazy to leave something broken in the yard, the penguin is just her favorite and I just HAVE to fix him, and did you know Daddy that Christmas is my favorite time of the year? (Yes sweetie, you are your mother's child.)
We wrap up and clean up outside, get everything put away in the garage and pull in the cars in anticipation of the inclement weather. And after she goes inside with her parting shot (Merry Christmas, Daddy!) I stand there looking at the roll of duct tape. Well, crap. I'm freezing, tired and dirty, I just want to go inside and warm up and enjoy the time with my family (the girls were soon to depart for a movie and a night over at their friend's house).
It should come as no surprise to anyone that the next 20 minutes or so were spent sitting on the cold ground, cussing at the bloody cute penguin and the damn dung-eating punks of the neighborhood and doing a field surgery proceedure with the roll of duct tape.
He's looking a little worse for wear but he's fully inflated and waving merrily at the neighborhood again. (C'mon punks, is that the best you got for me??)
Oh, yeah. Merry Christmas. ;-)
So after we got home from the Girl Scout outing to the Belle Boyd house (Confederate spy) Carrie is helping me finally string up the icicle lights around the house when she notices the Penguin was down. ("Medic! We got a large balloon penguin down, need bandages stat!") I'm not about to tell her the reason why he's been mortally wounded, so I just explain that he's got a hole in him and won't work.
Carrie proceeds for the rest of the half hour we are out there to declare how awful it is that the poor penguin is hurt, and people will think we're crazy to leave something broken in the yard, the penguin is just her favorite and I just HAVE to fix him, and did you know Daddy that Christmas is my favorite time of the year? (Yes sweetie, you are your mother's child.)
We wrap up and clean up outside, get everything put away in the garage and pull in the cars in anticipation of the inclement weather. And after she goes inside with her parting shot (Merry Christmas, Daddy!) I stand there looking at the roll of duct tape. Well, crap. I'm freezing, tired and dirty, I just want to go inside and warm up and enjoy the time with my family (the girls were soon to depart for a movie and a night over at their friend's house).
It should come as no surprise to anyone that the next 20 minutes or so were spent sitting on the cold ground, cussing at the bloody cute penguin and the damn dung-eating punks of the neighborhood and doing a field surgery proceedure with the roll of duct tape.
He's looking a little worse for wear but he's fully inflated and waving merrily at the neighborhood again. (C'mon punks, is that the best you got for me??)
Oh, yeah. Merry Christmas. ;-)
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