Hail to the Chief...

The house switched over this morning from using the traditional bottled suntan lotion to that of the spray variety. It was decided that convenience should win out over any environmental concerns since it only takes a few seconds to spray up the kids in the morning - mainly the eight-year old. The teenager has the belief that he lives in a universe where sunburn is not existent so mistakenly figures that he can opt-out. But our story is not about the battle of making kids wear sunscreen or the dangers of sunburn. No, today's post is about the fallout from this new policy. For it is today that we lose one of the owner's most beloved make-believe characters -one that only appeared when bottled sunscreen was used, "Chief Fartsalot"

It started a few years back; the big ninny was working nights and thus watched the little guy - a preschooler at the time - while his wife worked. Sunny days would start  for Father and son with a trip to the park. In order to get the tot ready for this fun in the sun, a good measure of sunscreen was applied. One day, as the owner contemplated the best application technique, he decided it would be best to start with a few stripes across the boy's face and then to blend everything in evenly from there. So he marked the boy's cheeks and nose - three light horizontal streaks across the cheeks and one vertical stripe down his nose. 

Standing back, he looked over the boy - he got an idea. "Hold on" he said as he quickly bounded down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. In a few seconds he returned from his son's room - having retrieved the old Indian headband with feathers that his son had made earlier for a preschool thanksgiving play. The boy giggled in anticipation - having made the connection. As the owner placed the headband on his son - war drums started filling the room. The beats came in a series - softly at first - as if coming from a distance and included short pauses for dramatic effect. The beats grew stronger and faster and went something like this;   dum .......dum.......dum......dum  /   dum......dum.....dum... DUM /  dum ....dum...DUM...DUM / dum..DUM..DUM..DUM, the beats increased in size and pace until they were at their strongest and fastest DUM. DUM. DUM.DUM / DUM. DUM. DUM. DUM/ DUM. DUM. DUM.DUM! The toddler screeched with joy as he jumped around the room - showing off his version of a rain dance! It was then that the child let loose with the accidental blast of wind - thus sealing the name, "Chief Fartsalot" until this sad, sad, day.  

Unfortunately, the Chief's ending has been coming for some time, for the toddler has grown into a, "mature" eight-year old who prefers now to forgo the ceremony of becoming the Chief. So it is with heavy hearts today that we mourn not only the passing of the Chief, but also that special moment of time. We've been down this road before with the teenager. It's amazing how quickly time passes and it is hard to give up the moments that we enjoy so much. But we look forward to new experiences and comedic opportunities that life presents. And we shall await the coming of a new Chief someday. Maybe down the road in the form of a Grandson or Granddaughter? Have a great day folks and for one last time - Hail to the Chief!