But It Was Only Ornamental Plums!

And then there was the time I got a call from the garbage disposal service about two little boys throwing things at the garbage truck... 


Me:  Hello

Garbage Disposal Service:  Is this Mrs. Villarreal?

Me: Uh... (now I have a choice to make)

• Should I lie because my sons did warn me that such a call might be coming... "No, she's not home right now, may I take a message?" -- What values would I be teaching my boys?

• Or maybe I could say, "No hablo ingles"-- But what if the person speaks Spanish? AND then again, what values would I be teaching my boys?

• Or  BETTER YET I could revert to my Tongan roots and say "ikai mahino" -- I don't understand... But then there's that little issue of values I'm teaching my boys.

• OR I could hang up and just not answer when they call back... or I could accidentally drop the phone and break it into a thousand tiny pieces... or I could succumb to the primal urge of fight or flight and take off to run the ten miles I run every day in preparation for the Seattle Rock 'n' Roll Marathon...                                                             

(Oh, wait -- now I'm mixing reality with fantasy -- I only run in my dreams.)

But then -- Ahhh! There's that THING about teaching my boys the values of being upright, contributing members of society!

And so I swallowed the words I really wanted to say and in a most pleasant voice answered, "Yes, this is Mrs. Villarreal.  How may I help you?"

I then politely listened to the account of how the poor garbage man was minding his own business when suddenly a gang of vicious children jumped out from behind the flowering Weeping Cherry Tree and pelted his garbage truck with fist-size rocks. And how, despite his hesitation to leave his vehicle unattended (for fear that the little monsters might do something else), he chased them past the weathered wooden gate, through the forest of Midget Maples and Twisted Tongue Wood Trees, to their secret hideout at the very edge of the wild fish pond.

Gang of Vicious Children

He then yelled to the gang of vicious children,  
"Who is your mother?"

And my boys, because I have taught them values, promptly told him my full name and cell phone number.

When I asked for an explanation of the aforementioned events, my boys muttered, "But it was only ornamental plums!" 

What the heck are ornamental plums?!  %##$%

And so, since I am big on values, I sat my boys down and made them write letters of apology to the garbage man.

They begged and pleaded -- "Pleeeease NOT THAT!!"  But, being akin to the Wicked Witch of the West, I made them do it anyway. 

And just to make sure that this lesson would forever stick in their little minds, I had them call the garbage disposal service to inform them that the letters were in the mail.