SETTING: SEVEN PEAKS WATER PARK, TUESDAY JULY 27TH. 7 PM..

Me: Aspen, will you go down the big slide with me?

Aspen: NO.

Me: Please?

Aspen: NO.

Me: What if I take you to see Pip? (Pip is not a person. Pip is a penguin from the book, “Where is Home, Little Pip?“). (This means Pip is not real). (I figure that the new penguin exhibit at the Living Planet Aquarium will suffice).

Aspen: Okay, I’ll do it.

Me: Great! Go tell Mom what’s going to happen if we go down the slide (thinking she’d say, “We’ll go see Pip!”).

Aspen: We’ll go down the slide, and we’ll TIP OVER AND WE’LL DIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE! (Dramatic hand gestures, followed by her acting out “dying” by falling over in the pool).

20 Minutes later: Aspen went down the slide with us.

We go to see Pip on Friday.

Nobody died, but Jake’s look of complete and utter FEAR going down the big orange slide was a close runner up.

I WAS DRIVING MY USUAL ROUTE TONIGHT, and minding my own business – which normally includes loud music and driving just a titch too fast. The traffic was good, the music was better and my spirits were high.

It was then that I saw the roadblock.

In “Utard” county, wrecks are as often as gas stations, just less convenient. I grumble and downshift, hoping to not have to stop completely. But what’s this? Spot lights? Camera crew? Incident Management truck? And every patrol car in the county. I thought I was in for some serious carnage.

Ever noticed how everyone drives in slow motion past a wreck? You don’t want to look, you don’t care to see, but something in your inner workings glues your eyes to the crushed cars and strewed glass in hopes of seeing something worth wishing you hadn’t seen. I was in that moment. That moment was gone two seconds later as I grudgingly had to stop completely under a halo of glaring spotlights, surrounded on all sides by a swarm of bacon policeman.

“How you doin’ tonight?” The nicer of the surrounding officers asked me while simultaneously glancing through my dirty car. I was hoping he’d noticed the large stack of books, the empty candy wrappers and most importantly the unopened donuts.

Because who doesn’t like donuts?

“We’re doing a routine sobriety check. Have you had anything that could impair your ability to drive tonight? Any alcohol, drugs, paraphernalia, fried chicken or loose penguins?” He adds with laugh at his own joke and a final glance in the back seats. Dang it, so that’s what he’s after, some home fried KFC. Sadly, KFC is one of the only things I don’t share, seeing as it only lasts about .08 seconds before I snarf it down myself.

Being the witty genius that I am, the only word I could spit out was an all-too-chipper, “Nope!”. Nice one.

“Alright, as long as you don’t have any loose penguins I guess you’re free to go,” he remarked and waved me on my way. I locked eyes for one last moment with a huge German Shepard drug dog and hit the gas a little harder, before I could let slip that they need to check the officer and not the cars, if he is seeing flightless birds and all.

And those darn penguins are all on the loose. Lord help us all.