I’m a TP parent

Yesterday my 17-year-old son Leif wore a t-shirt to school that said, in ironed-on, upper-case letters, “FEMINIST.” This morning I woke up to this:

tp photo

Coincidence? Well, yeah, probably.

In my experience, it’s usually friends, not enemies, who toilet paper someone’s yard.

It reminds me of my first experience with the TP treatment. I was only 11 or 12 at the time, and most of my friends lived far away, so it was certainly the friends of my older brother Jeff who were to blame.

My father, for some reason, made me clean the mess up, and the injustice of it all still burns to this day. Rest assured that I will not be the one to de-TP our trees today. Leif is sound asleep at 9 this morning, but as soon as he awakes his mission will be handed down from headquarters.

Since it was probably Leif’s friends who are the culprits, I considered going on Twitter and pretending that I have a motion-sensitive security camera, so I know who did it.

These are the sorts of things I think about on my morning walks: bringing justice to (or wreaking vengeance upon) all who have wronged me.

But today I am in a merciful mood. Kids will be kids, and as long as I don’t have to clean it up, I won’t be offended — even though one of the trees dressed in bathroom tissue was recently planted in honor of my mom.

And I will take some satisfaction in the fact that they also hit the white pine we planted in honor of Dear old Dad, whose 40-year-old injustice has finally been punished.


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