Driving home from my really ugly visit to the Apple Store, on Old Farm Road South, near our house, I saw three deer cross the road ahead. One of them had a large yellow arrow dangling from its side. When I got home, I called the Mt. Pleasant police and reported (a) an injured deer, and (b) that someone was probably hunting in Old Farm Hill Park, a block from our house. Here are a few pictures I took there a week or so ago.
My son Peter trying to climb up to a hunting platform in the park:
. . . and a shotgun shell I found on the ground.
Understand that because of their propensity to devour anything I plant in the yard I am not a big fan of deer, which I am known to refer to as "rats on stilts." But this is not the wilderness. This is suburbia with one-acre zoning. Hunting in my neighborhood could kill someone.
MEANWHILE, best kid's lines of the day:
ELIZABETH (3): Let's pretend that daddy's a lady, so he can be one of us!
PETER (8): We accidentally set the corner of the desk on fire, but it was OK.
PLUS, great line overheard in the halls of pre-school: One mother says to the other: When my child does that, I always blame it on my husband.
AND FINALLY, the question I should not have asked: Are you accustomed to having a mother who puts up with such nonsense? (Guess what Peter's answer was.)