Plan B

The Bandit is already telling me what he wants for his birthday.  It’s coming up in May.  I already know about the puppy.  If you recall, he

Oh dear, look what just wandered into the yard.

 desperately wanted a puppy from Santa this Christmas and that didn’t work out.  I’ll guess he figured he’d give it six months and try again.  But in all honesty, the campaign has never really ended.  I almost had his daddy convinced that Roscoe the Idiot Dog really needed a friend.  I still think that, and not just because I really want another dog.  I’ve never, as an adult, only had one dog.  I’m a dog person.  My Honey acknowledges this.

“If I let you have your way, you’d be running a kennel,” he tells me. 

I’ve done everything I can to help the boy out, but he constantly shoots himself in the foot and ruins all my subversive campaigning by refusing to feed the dog we do have.  Stupid boy.

In the last several weeks, though, he’s been coming to me with something else he’d like just as much.  What do you suppose a five year old boy would like for his birthday just as much as a real-live puppy?  You’re thinking horse, right?  Yeah, he wants a horse, too, but that’s not it.  Hold on to your socks.

He wants a jackhammer.  Yes, a jackhammer.  Don’t ask me what he thinks he’s going to do with a jackhammer, but he really wants one.  He’s brought it up to me no less than seven times.  I asked him if he knew for sure what a jackhammer was, and he demonstrated, with sound effects and everything, exactly the right thing.

Maybe he’s more conniving than I give him credit for.  Perhaps he’s picked something completely ludacris and out of the question so that the puppy

Oh crap! Look what I just found on the Internet

 seems completely feasible.

I tell you, he’s working the wrong parent.  His dad is more likely to find a “Your First Jackhammer” on Ebay or something.