This morning, long before my 17-year-old son got up (sleeping in one last morning before school starts), I noticed there were a couple of cars parked in front of the house across the street that’s been on the market for a few months now. From peering suspiciously out the window I got the impression that a realtor was showing the house to a family. Multiple children’s voices were audible, kinda loud and screechy, and I had my standard visceral reaction to the prospect of unwelcome marauding rugrats. (Mind you, my kids are perfect and have never caused me or anyone else the slightest hint of annoyance.)
So eventually the sleepyhead arose and came downstairs. While he was eating his
breakfast er, brunch, I told him about the potential new neighbors and the kids. He made the standard inarticulate “ugh” sound to signal his displeasure, and I said that maybe the next time they came by I should set up a repeating gunfire sequence from a sound effects CD to play out my office window. But Number One Son had a better idea…
SON: Maybe the next time they’re here, we should go out in front and show them our religious rituals.
ME: (after recovering from laughter) Religious rituals? What would these involve?
SON: Probably lots of fire.
No question about it – this kid is gonna turn out just fine.