June 15: A Son, a Box, and a TV

This morning, my son (three years old with the temper of a hungry grizzly bear) got angry with my wife.  He wasn't getting his way with his toys or his SpongeBob.  While my wife was collecting his extensive collection of Matchbox cars from the floor where he dumped them, my son decided to throw something.  He picked up the large, empty, plastic container for his cars and heaved it.  Right into the screen of our 48" flat screen TV.

Needless to say, our 48" flat screen TV did not appreciate the assault.  The screen cracked, leaving, my wife informs me, a beautiful rainbow of colors on a quarter of the screen's image.  When my wife called and told me of this episode, I couldn't speak.  I sat there literally unable to string together two words.  What I finally choked out was, "I can't talk," and I hung up.

Having had a few hours to digest this information, I have decided to stake my son out in the backyard, cover him with honey, and let the ants have him.  I will be purchasing the rope and honey this afternoon.

All kidding aside, I'm still pretty pissed.  Now I have to go grocery shopping, and the list my wife dictated to me is about three pages long.  Then, when I get home and survey for myself the TV damage, I have to clean the house.  By the time I finish all that, I may get a few hours of sleep before I have to get up tomorrow morning.

If you can't tell, Saint Marty is in a pretty sucky mood, and it's not going to improve for the rest of the day.  He hopes the rope and honey are on sale.

Stay out of my way today!