I am blogging from an undisclosed secure location today.
Word is, a fatwa has been issued against me by Natasha, wife of Aaron, owner of The Shekel.
Apparently this has something to do with my teaching Abby and Leah, their two young girls, how to make blowguns from soda straws and spitballs from pieces of napkins when we were at a McDonald's the other day. (NOT one of the ones on the Ohio Turnpike.)
I thought that it was cute, and a good way to bond with the girls. They definitely thought it was great fun and the older one became quite proficient at shooting spitballs before we left.
For some reason, however, Natasha is not amused.
I even tried to point out that Aaron sat right there without objecting, a tacit co-conspirator, but no joy--she's still blaming me.
I had even hoped that I might count on my valiant ex-police dog for protection from her wrath, but as soon as I told Lagniappe that Tash was reported to be on her way down and in an angry state, he skootched under the bed and now he won't come out.
So was it really so wrong to teach these kids something that they almost certainly would have learned eventually anyway? I'm thinking not, and if you agree with me, can I stay with you for a few weeks?
I mean, come on--it's not like I told them more stories about monsters under the bed that chew little kids' legs off at night. (And for the record, I honestly had no idea that little kids actually believe that sort of stuff--and I said I was sorry...)