Safety Measures

"What are we going to do now?" I asked Sandra.

"Oh, we'll just skip to my lou with Mr. Muggles. Won't we, Mr. Muggles?" She kissed him on his wet, little nose.

"But what about Claire? She can't have a boyfriend! She's too young."

"Oh, nonsense. A tub of macaroni is just as cheesy as a vat of applesauce."

It was clear I"d have to handle this parenting thing on my own. Apparently, Sandra's still suffering from her run ins with The Haitian. Though, in his defense, she wasn't much smarter than mayonnaise before.

Hmmm...How do I break up those two? That is the question. To know the answer, I have to understand boys. What do boys want? Pizza...baseball...nudity. Other than that, I'm not sure they desire anything. So, I instituted a pizza ban, canceled my ESPN subscription and bought Claire lots and lots of new clothes, clothes so stylish she'd keep 'em on at any cost.

"Hey, thanks, Dad!" she said before biting into a slice of cheese pizza. I slapped the pseudo-Italian pie out of her hand. Mr. Muggles excitedly ran to eat it off the floor.

"There is to be NO pizza in this house!" I commanded.

"Gah! You're such a nerd," Claire ran to her room and slammed the door.

Now, that little punk won't come anywhere near our house ever again. But just in case my plan fails, we're moving away, and I've got my gun. Nothing says good parent like a concealed handgun.