And The Rest of the Story

 

In my defense, I have my reasons.  After 12 1/2 years of parenting, I broke down and bought guns--cap guns--for my children, even though I thought I never would (Grandma gifted the cool swords).  I even gave them to the kids for Easter gifts, of all things. 

Have I gone mad?  It's possible. 

Here is what I have been promised in return:  Basia will get used to the sudden loud noise caused by the cap guns and stop being deathly afraid of sudden loud noises, including those made by starter pistols.  She will even let me sign her up for a track team in the future. 

The girl is fast.  The girl can jump.  The girl is petrified of starter pistols and wants nothing to do with track meets or races of any sort.  It's not like she says, "yikes" and covers her ears.  She freaks out.  She starts worrying days in advance when we sign her up for a 5K.  She has issues.

These cap guns are a form of auditory therapy and bribery at the same time.  The real Easter story is one of hope for all people.  This Easter gift was given with much hope--a hope for athletic scholarships and Olympic glory.  And think, when the tabloids come to me for a million dollar story, I can give them a picture of little Basia in her beautiful Easter dress with her bright orange cap gun.

Yep, I'm that kind of crazy!