Recently my family and I were the victims of a hate crime. Well maybe not my family and I, but our house was. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a hate crime either, but it was certainly a waste crime and one that I can hardly bear writing about.
What I mean to say is that our house was egged. Seeing the carnage that was our house when I arrived home was a sight that I’ve seen every night since but, hopefully, after I get around to cleaning it up, I won’t see it again. Even worse than seeing my house covered in egg gore was seeing the impact it had on my two kids. The following are samples of the tough conversations I’ve had to have with my two young boys:
First known depiction of an egging
Me: Our house was egged today.
Youngest Son: Egg
Me: That’s right it was egged
Youngest Son: Egg out there?
Me: Yep, there are eggs out there.
Youngest Son: Egg
Me: Yes, eggs
Youngest Son: Egg out there?
Me: Yes.
As you can tell this atrocity perpetrated against our house has thrown my youngest son into a cyclical pattern of egg statements and questions such as only occur in two-year olds. Thankfully he is a two-year old so we haven’t much to worry about.
While my youngest son is stuck in a normal two-year old cyclical pattern my oldest son has devised a punishment so severe and ruthless that I fear he may grow up to be a Republican. Here is my conversation with him regarding this tragedy:
Me: Our house got egged buddy.
Oldest Son: Why did they do that dad?
Me: I don’t know buddy. Sometimes people do silly things like that.
Oldest Son: I know what to do dad.
Me: What’s that?
Oldest Son: When they come trick-or-treating we won’t give them any candy.
Needless to say I didn’t know how to reply to such a brutal and shocking reply coming from my five-year old. “Where had I gone wrong in teaching him that forgiveness and love were more important qualities than revenge?”, I thought to myself. No immediate answer came to mind so I decided to implement my own plan to protect against future attacks on our house’s freedom.
Pulling into the Toys R Us parking lot I was intent on buying a house-mounted super-soaker that was guaranteed to blast any future eggers 15 blocks away with its laser-activated perimeter attachment. However, much to my dismay, the paperwork they required (they wanted me to sign a credit card receipt), I felt, was an affront to my house’s constitutional right to be egg-free forcing me to do what every red-white-and-blue blooded American would do: I went to the local weaponry show and received two free bazookas and three free land mines with purchase of admission (and no paperwork was required!).
After carefully installing these necessary weapons of freedom I promptly blew up my mini-van pulling out of the garage. Thankfully no one was hurt save a squirrel, the neighbors dog and half of my house. Despite the fact that my family and I have no place to live until our house is repaired (which should be sometime around 2036 – don’t get me started on the insurance company that refused to cover this accident) I’m sure that I’ve taught those eggers a lesson that they won’t forget – if you egg our house you won’t get any candy if you come to our house trick-or-treating.
Accounting 4 Life 
Oddly enough, almost this exact same experience happened to me. Hmmm.
Egg. Egg out there?
I hate to be a whistle blower, but your oldest son and I hatched this plot long ago… think deeply about whether or not you may have upset him suspiciously prior to the incident. And we all know I’m still sore over that right cross to the jaw.