I know this will sound a bit odd to those who celebrate Christmas, but your favorite holiday is often one of the most boring days of the year to the rest of us. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, it’s just that, well, everything shuts down except the odd Chinese restaurant and occasional gas station.
A boring day for me is fine, but it’s hard to explain to the kids. While other families are enjoying feasts and opening presents, my kids are, um, um doing, um nothing. Except beating up on each other in abject boredom.
What to do? We decided to drive around to get Lael to nap. By the time we succeeded, we found ourselves at a beach in the wealthy enclave of Southport, Connecticut.
Seth didn’t want to get out to explore, but we egged him on. Good thing, too. The beach was full of cool shells. Another sharing day for preschool solved.
As we approached the other end of the beach, we ran into a man dressed in fatigues with his disinterested pre-pubescent son. Oh, and he was holding a camouflaged gun. Officially, the man was hunting geese and ducks.
Unofficially, he was hunting poor, unsuspecting non-Christians to ask them how their holiday was going.
“Good Christmas?”
“Uh, yeah.” Please don’t shoot us.
“Yeah, I gave my son here an iPod. And an X-box. And ....”
“That’s great.” Please don’t shoot us.
“Are your kids having a good Christmas?”
“Yeah, sure.” Please don’t shoot us. (Look, I’m not stereotyping here, but this guy was weird even for a yahoo. Must hunters I’ve ever met are quiet, single-syllable fellows. This man was a talking machine who seemed to be waiting for us to give him the wrong answer. But I am just kidding about worrying that he would shoot us. He was really quite friendly.)
My wife and the fellow started talking about geese invading Connecticut. Seth kept asking me to look at this shell or that.
At some point the hunter said about the 48-degree day, “There isn’t any global warming....”
“Uh-huh.” Please don’t shoot us.
Somehow, we finally broke away. Anne and I waited until we were far out of earshot before discussing the strange, talkative man with a gun.
Look, I’m sure there was no danger of this guy shooting us, but maybe we’ll stay indoors next Christmas.
I know this will sound a bit odd to those who celebrate Christmas, but your favorite holiday is often one of the most boring days of the year to the rest of us. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, it’s just that, well, everything shuts down except the odd Chinese restaurant and occasional gas station.
A boring day for me is fine, but it’s hard to explain to the kids. While other families are enjoying feasts and opening presents, my kids are, um, um doing, um nothing. Except beating up on each other in abject boredom.
What to do? We decided to drive around to get Lael to nap. By the time we succeeded, we found ourselves at a beach in the wealthy enclave of Southport, Connecticut.
Seth didn’t want to get out to explore, but we egged him on. Good thing, too. The beach was full of cool shells. Another sharing day for preschool solved.
As we approached the other end of the beach, we ran into a man dressed in fatigues with his disinterested pre-pubescent son. Oh, and he was holding a camouflaged gun. Officially, the man was hunting geese and ducks.
Unofficially, he was hunting poor, unsuspecting non-Christians to ask them how their holiday was going.
“Good Christmas?”
“Uh, yeah.” Please don’t shoot us.
“Yeah, I gave my son here an iPod. And an X-box. And ....”
“That’s great.” Please don’t shoot us.
“Are your kids having a good Christmas?”
“Yeah, sure.” Please don’t shoot us. (Look, I’m not stereotyping here, but this guy was weird even for a yahoo. Must hunters I’ve ever met are quiet, single-syllable fellows. This man was a talking machine who seemed to be waiting for us to give him the wrong answer. But I am just kidding about worrying that he would shoot us. He was really quite friendly.)
My wife and the fellow started talking about geese invading Connecticut. Seth kept asking me to look at this shell or that.
At some point the hunter said about the 48-degree day, “There isn’t any global warming....”
“Uh-huh.” Please don’t shoot us.
Somehow, we finally broke away. Anne and I waited until we were far out of earshot before discussing the strange, talkative man with a gun.
Look, I’m sure there was no danger of this guy shooting us, but maybe we’ll stay indoors next Christmas.