I'm sorry to the Fat Puerto Rican Ladies

I was at home yesterday.  And we were getting ready to go out to the children's museum-my favorite part is the mummified children from around the world- and I was excited. So. I started kicking balls all over the playroom.  And yelling.  Because I'm "fun dad."  Balls of different colors, but all of them filled with air, and large enough and soft enough to not do any real damage to anything they might strike (i.e. a toddler in the keppe, which is pretty funny); or so I thought.

I really got some good leg (World Cup terminology meaning "I kicked it") into this one large red ball.  It rocketed in to the air.  I was impressed with the undiminished power of my middle-aged quadriceps.  Until, it smashed into the Fat Puerto Rican Ladies.  There were Fat Puerto Rican Lady shards everywhere.

The Puerto Rican Ladies are--were, goddammit--a lovely piece of folk art given to my wife many years ago.  It was (was!  Arrrghh,) a wind chime made up of little, colorfully attired fat brown ladies, purchased in Puerto Rico.  They were adorable.  They used to hang from a hook between the tops of two adjacent playroom windows.  We've had them for a very long time.  They've survived multiple moves, hyper dogs, crazy parties, and two toddlers.

But they couldn't survive me.  Like I said, I was excited.    Which in my world means running into the playroom and bellowing "Hey guys!  Fun dad is here!  Let's trash some of Mommy's shit!"

And the kids, they never say no, the bastards.  Totally culpable.  Someone needs to be the voice of reason here.

Anyway, it was a massacre.  Fat Puerto Rican Lady pieces everywhere.  There was even one large chunk of Fat Puerto Rican Lady lightly embedded into the soft wood of the window pane (I haven't told   my wife about that yet.  I don't think she would've found it entertaining at that time.).  I dug her out and disposed of her.  And the rest of her happy, lovely, beloved, Fat Puerto Rican Lady friends.

I will probably never forgive myself for this one.  At least not until I break something else important.

To my wife, I'm sorry I broke the Puerto Rican ladies.  I loved them too.  I hope you can forgive me and in forgiving me I hope you can find it in your heart to hold the children at least a little bit responsible.

Remorsefully,

Homemaker Man


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