Thursday, June 30, 2011
Constancy & TP
My first thought? I wonder if the sprinklers already went off. (A sure sign of getting old)
My second thought? I wonder how bad they got us.
I went outside and looked around. I instantly knew it had been done by girls. Girls can't TP. Sorry to sound so blatantly sexist, and I'm sure there are exceptions, but you can spot the difference from a mile away. They did a decent job on the bushes, some strips were strewn about the lawn, but the tree coverage was completely lame. It looked like they walked around the trees and hung the paper, as you would icicles on a Christmas tree. It didn't even look like they threw any rolls up and over. And the volume of TP was really weak. This attack didn't even merit an honorable mention in our home's history of being TP'ed.
So, my parental TP calculator worked it out that the culprits were:
c) young and poor enough to have to take TP from home supply
Sherlock Holmes has got nothin' on me.
So, I went back inside and woke up my 14 year old FOML and told him to go clean up the mess his friends made. (BTW, within hours my deductive reasoning was completely validated when one of the poor, young, short girls just had to get on Facebook and spill the beans. Kids today...sheesh! Discretion anyone?)
No, I wasn't angry. I know some parents flip out, use words like "vandalism", "police" and "Oooh, Charmin", but I don't think it is a big deal. I just made my son go out and re-roll all the paper and bring it in the house to use later. Just kidding! We donated it to the Deseret Industries. Kidding again!
Getting TP'ed puts you in a weird area between being vandalized and being honored. And you usually don't know which it is supposed to represent, so I choose to go through life looking at it as an honor. (A few years ago some boys who were "honoring" my daughter with about 80 rolls had me on the verge of anger. They were good. Really good. We were pulling TP out of our trees for a year)
When I was a kid, (Scout age to be exact) we would sleep outside at each other's houses during the summer, giving us freedom to roam the neighborhood a will, armed with TP. The usual victim? Our beloved Scoutmaster. We did love him. We just had a very immature way of showing him. We would hit his house at least once a week with tremendous throwing ability, and lots of TP. He would get mad and try to catch us, but we were highly skilled at concealment. He would result to standing on his porch with a flashlight yelling into the night air. "You guys need to knock it off, or I'm telling your parents." He never did, because he loved us too.
Looking back, I feel a little bad that we picked on him so often. I feel especially bad that sometimes we used pastel-colored TP.
Times have changed, but some things never completely go out of style. Except one thing: The girls that TP'ed our house were accompanied by one of the girl's mothers. Whaaaa? What has this world come to? (That is a rhetorical question)