March 28, 2005

Of Course, You Know This Means War......

My sister sent the newly seven year old Llama-ette a National Geographic Voice Changer for her birthday.

Thanks a lot, sis.

We start pricing air horns for my niece tomorrow morning. [Insert evil laugh here.]

Posted by Robert at March 28, 2005 02:38 PM

A nice drum set, or even a pair of bongos are always good revenge.

Posted by: Zendo Deb at March 28, 2005 04:38 PM

You must love your sister, for she is evil....

Posted by: babs at March 28, 2005 05:34 PM

We enjoyed giving that little Playskool popcorn popper with a handle... kids can run circles bare on the carpet while making the most annoying Pop! sound ad nauseum, and with the handle they can even take a whack at one another from a head-start range of about three-and-a-half feet. Enjoy, dear nieces, enjoy, dear nephews!

Posted by: tee bee at March 28, 2005 07:07 PM

Once a gentleman gave one of my children a tin whistle--a veritable invention of Satan, sir, and one which I have an unspeakable horror of, and so would you if you had eighty or ninety children in your house. But the deed was done--the man
escaped. I knew what the result was going to be, and I thirsted for vengeance. I ordered out a flock of Destroying Angels, and they hunted
the man far into the fastnesses of the Nevada mountains. But they never caught him. I am not cruel, sir--I am not vindictive except when sorely outraged--but if I had caught him, sir, so help me Joseph Smith, I would have locked him into the nursery till the brats whistled him to death. By the slaughtered body of St. Parley Pratt (whom God assail!) there was never anything on this earth like it! I knew who gave the whistle to the child, but I could, not make those jealous mothers believe me. They believed I did it, and the result was just what any man of reflection could have foreseen: I had to order a hundred and ten whistles--I think we had a hundred and ten children in the house then, but some of them are off at college now--I had to order a hundred and ten of those shrieking
things, and I wish I may never speak another word if we didn't have to talk on our fingers entirely, from that time forth until the children got tired of the whistles. And if ever another man gives a whistle to a child of mine and I get my hands on him, I will hang him higher than

---- attributed to Brigham Young by Mark Twain in "Roughing It"

Posted by: John at March 29, 2005 10:53 AM

Drums, indeed. I'm told that when I was a only wee toddler, my aunt bought me a kiddy drum kit with sheet-metal heads, and that it disappeared later that day.

Posted by: Ed Flinn at March 29, 2005 01:12 PM
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