After seeing how much Calvin loved a golf class he took last summer, my dad got Calvin a kid-sized starter golf club set for Christmas. While Calvin was thrilled to have his own clubs, he was mightily disappointed when we forbid him from ever swinging them inside the house. Being unable to use the clubs, his attention, therefore, switched to the tube the clubs came in.
The tube was around four inches in diameter and three feet tall and was perfect for launching rockets from your shoulder. He spent the rest of the evening running around the house, poking the tube into people's faces, and firing an endless barrage of ammunition. Unwrapping presents suddenly became fraught with danger. I glared at David, my eyes sending the clear message that he had better handle this and soon. He finally spoke up:
David: (In a threatening tone) Calvin, if you ever point that bazooka at someone in this room . . . the explosion will kill you as well. Make sure you put more distance between you and your target.
That's parenting at its finest right there, folks.
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