Saturday, 25 June 2011

Precarious Pedestal

The ultimate test of my character seems to be to view myself through the eyes of my own children, complete with the moral filters that my hubby and I instilled in them. There is something so deflating about seeing the sweet young face of your child disappointed in you, not because you didn't buy him the toy/candy/whatever that he wanted, but because he heard you swear.

 The older my kids get, the lower my pedestal is, and that's okay. I don't really want them to see me as an unrealistic ideal, but I do wish I could actually be something closer to that ideal than I am. there have been several occurrences of me being disappointing, but it seems to happen less often for the hubby. Most recently, however, it was his turn.
 We have an ongoing problem with raccoons. We even bought a live trap so that we could catch them and drive them far away from our house to start a new life, probably annoying someone else. Two nests of robin's eggs under our deck have been destroyed by raccoons, frogs have been killed and (most annoying to me) these raccoons have decided that our deck makes a nice toilet. Almost every morning there is a fresh pile of poop for me to clean up. We have been trying to keep them off the deck at night by blocking the stairs. After all, raccoons must certainly observe conventions such as stairs; they wouldn't climb over the railing, right? Hubby went out before bed the other night to reconstruct our crafty barricade. When he was done and about to come back into the house, he heard a noise on the deck. It was dark and he couldn't see much, but what he did see was a raccoon, pulling itself up the side of the deck. Now if it had been me, I would have dashed inside; I have the proper respect for those nasty little teeth and claws.

 My hubby though, he's going to fight! Frantically searching for some sort of weapon, he laid his hands on the only thing available, a plastic watering can. With some some previously unknown mad swordplay skills, he jabbed and poked at that thing until it was begging for mercy, just clinging to the top of the railing. Then, he delivered the final blow. For a quick switch of weapons he dropped the watering can and grabbed a large Rubbermaid bin. Raising it high in the air, he brought it down full-force on the fuzzy head of our unwanted intruder.
Alone in his room, listening to the struggle from his bed, our son heard a THWACK, followed by a THUD, followed by "Get out of here you little sh*t!"
 And that is how my hubby fell an increment down the pedestal in our youngest son's eyes.

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