Broken Record

One of the boys' favorite games to play is called Little Old Man.  After rummaging through our bedroom closet and locating the cane I used while recovering from back surgery, they go thumping through the house hunched over and talking in silly voices.  A thousand times they have been told not to take the cane out of the closet.  Inevitably, however, it finds it's way to the top of the stairs where it waits, along side the cat, to trip the first passer by.  When it is not waiting in joyful hope of a sprained ankle or broken leg, it occupies itself by making indentations along the walls or against any unsuspecting piece of furniture. 

This evening, while fishing around for a pair of matching socks, I watched as Logan came bouncing into the bedroom and made a beeline for the closet.  It took two and a half seconds for him to locate the cane which he immediately began to thump up and down on the wooden floor as he ran around the room.  I am, as yet, still undecided about which was more ridiculous...the deafening racket or the comically mischievous smirk on his face. 

"Logan..." I shouted, with every intention of finishing my thought.

"Put it back now.  Logan, put it back now," he shrieked, emphasizing every word with a blow to the floor. 

He fixed me with a wide-eyed grin that told me he had my number.  Then, with a peel of maniacal laughter, he lobbed the cane back into the closet and scampered out of the room.

I see you remember that we've talked about this before.

- 20 December 2011