A New Affliction

Pandemic! It threatens everyone. Most don't even know it, nor do they realize that while it is universal and potentially fatal, its progress can be slowed to a crawl with relative ease. This affliction, funicle degeneration or fuddy duddy syndrome, is most commonly called AGE and it desires to have us all. It nearly got me. But for the brave actions of a little boy, I might be in its relentless clutches at this very moment. I'd love to say I escaped, but I was actually rescued. It went like this...

Several months ago, sometime between Christmas and April Fool's Day, my son Wyatt reminded me that the 4th of July was right around the corner and that we needed to be thinking about getting fireworks. I remember the days when fireworks were a celebratory expression of American Independence. Those sparks and whistles, those flames and pops. I couldn't get enough. But now, fireworks are a celebratory expression of watching my paycheck go up in smoke.

Now Wyatt is at the "fireworks are awesome" stage in life and made sure I was reminded of it at every opportuntity. His incindiary promptings continued unabated and he made supplications at regular intervals that I should procure some fireworks as quickly as possible in preparation for the huge backyard Fourth of July celebration. I, of course, made every conceivable excuse for not having done so, such as, "I'm sure they are all sold out." and "We just can't afford it right now." and the ever popular and minimally effective, "I think I broke my legs." None of those worked and I found myself being assaulted on a minute-by-minute basis by a young boy just wanting to have some fun. But, having a full blown case of FD made it easy to deny his requests. The kicker came when he finally gave up with, "OK!" and walked away from me with his knuckles dragging the floor like a little toe headed neaderthal. I just couldn't take it. I grabbed my keys and the checkbook and we headed to the store late in the afternoon of July 4, 2007 to see what we could find, hoping there was still something left on the shelf. Of course, Wyatt came with me. We entered the store and wouldn't you know it, there were stacks of fireworks, all laughing at me, waiting to set my savings ablaze. The grip of FD does not loosen easily. But after about .000009438 seconds, he had made his selection and we were headed for home. The entire 15 minute trip I was treated to a personal reading of every word on the box, a couple of times. At least twice I felt the sting of pure joy slamming into my neck from the back seat as he fizzled with anticipation. By the time we got home he was ready to ignite. I'm just glad he didn't explode in the car. Dinner was pure torture and we were all certain the sun was never going to set. But eventually it did and we retreated to the back yard for 12 minutes and $29.97 of flaming fun.

My FD is cured and, fortunately, my son is still intact.