MY CHILDREN ARE BULLIES

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Yes, it's true. You read the title correctly. My children *sob* are bullies *whimper*. I'm so ashamed. Just last week I wrote a post in which I came down very hard on bullies. And now I've learned what my very own children are capable of doing. It's so shocking. I didn't know if I could tell you, but I feel I must take responsibility for their actions. Don't bother calling the police to report their crime. I'll deny everything and offer sexual favors until the cops run in terror.

 I have tried to be a responsible parent. But sometimes nothing a parent does is of any help. I swear to you it's nature, not nurture.

 It happened yesterday afternoon. The kids -- Harper, Scout, and Franklin -- were gathered around the rose bush in the back yard. They were obviously having a look at something and chatting about it. This is never a good sign. It means they are in collision or collution, or whatever, against something.

They were supposed to be outside playing because at times, they become a little too rambunctious in the house.

 I went outside to see what was really going on because I am a diligent parent.

And what I saw, Oh Lord please save my children from their instincts, oh my goodness -- white feathers on the ground under the rose bush. And I knew immediately, oh yes I knew, I knew they had killed a bird.

I suspect they used their sling shots, or maybe one of them took my BB gun when I was drinking beer and watching my few remaining soaps. I don't know the truth yet. No one is talking.

But no bird was under the rose bush. I went to look around the yard. I saw it. A dove. A poor white dove in the middle of the back yard. I thought, I'll have to cover up what they've done because blood is thicker than water. They are my children and I'll punish them, but I won't allow the police to take my babies away.

I took a closer look at the dove to determine how to conceal the crime and realized he was alive. Yes, he was alive, but he couldn't move. Couldn't fly. Couldn't even get up and walk away.

What was I to do?

Should I take him to the nearest hospital, pull up to the ER, and toss him out the window toward the door? Someone might be able to help him.

I went inside to text Favorite Young Man because he is a criminal mastermind. He would tell me what to do.

I started texting him, and suddenly, Harper walked in with the dove and put it on my $750 area rug.

He was now one dead dove and there was no turning back.

I screamed in horror because I simply couldn't believe my very own boys had carried out such a vicious attack. Then I started coughing because I had screamed so loud.

I dashed out the front door because dead creatures freak me out hoping that my neighbor, an RN, might be able to help me with, uh, CPR. Perhaps we could revive the dove.

Alas, Anthony hot, hot young Anthony who gives me so much pleasure when he takes off his shirt to work in his yard was not at home. So I set off up the street looking for any available man who might be of assistance. The only person I found at home was a young mom with her little boy.

I knocked on the door, crying, Suzanne, I'm desperate. My children have killed a dove and I don't know what to do.

She said, Would you like me to take care of it?

You wouldn't mind?

No, I wouldn't mind, Suzanne said.

Now I had a partner in crime. Because it was such a nice day and I decided to stroll around the block before I went to Suzanne's It was too late to revive the dove so he would have to be hidden.

Suzanne picked him up - gasp - with a trash bag, dropped him inside, tied the bag shut, AND WE HID THE BAG IN THE BOTTOM OF THE GARBAGE CAN.

Now how do I teach my children it is a sin to kill? I think it's even a commander, commando, going commando, or something in the Bible.

I sent Franklin to his room.

I lectured Scout.

And because Harper was the one who brought the dove inside, as if he were so proud of himself, I sent him to bed without his supper.

But now I have even more to worry about. In the past I have seen dead mice, dead bunnies, a dead possum, dead moles, dead rats, dead squirrels, and many dead birds.

I fear my children are not mere bullies. They are cereal killers.

Please pray for them.

Infinities of love,

Lola