The Untitled Post

I have thought and thought and thought of a title for this post.  No luck.  Well, a couple came to mind but I scrapped them.  What does one title a post about a tampon?  Allow me to explain.


As you know, faithful readers, John-Heath loves the Army.  In fact, this is post #31 on just this very subject.  Actually, I'm kidding.  I've written about his love for the military many times, but 31 may be a stretch.   

Lately, he has been begging us to take him back to a local Army Surplus store.  He wants his role playing to seem more real so he is asking for...get this...hand grenades.  He assures me they are just dummy grenades and can't actually explode.  I remain unconvinced.  I have to think (at least, I certainly hope) these places don't have live grenades being sold out of bushel baskets.  Still, the idea of my eight-year-old running around the yard with grenades strapped to him is a bit much for my sensitivities.

So, John told him to be creative and come up with something he could use as pretend grenades like he, himself, did as a boy (John and friends would stick chicken feathers in the ends of corn cobs).

Well, we have no chickens or corn on the farm anymore, but my son is nothing if not innovative.  Turns out, Playtex came to his rescue.  While rummaging around the house looking for something to use he found what he thought to be a pretty good substitute.

Only two things give me worry about this....

1.  I hope we're not in Wal-Mart some night and he says, "Buy me a box of those tampons, Mom".  I would imagine that would generate some looks if overheard.

And 2.  I hope he finds a better alternative for his grenades.  Me thinks the mother of the young man in the picture below wonders where she went wrong.