The shrieks are unlike anything I have heard before. They pierce the ozone layer, floating above all of our heads for miles, echoing into the distance. Waves of gurgles and grumpy demands drown the front yard. I issue a flash flood warning to all of my closest neighbors.
Two of the four children are never happier when they are splashing everything within reach. The other two children are the temporary victims of their sadistic water torture.
The hose is turned on and off with fervor. Any wasp within sight is immediately hosed down into a shallow watery grave, and then sprayed once more for emphasis.
One child encircles the perimeter of the pool with caution and anxious glee. This glee can be transformed into misery with one sharp shooter's aim of the Super Soaker. And, not surprisingly, immediate and utter disdain for the activities of the day are emitted. The sound of unhappiness rumbles thick and slow over the sea of children. Shock waves of whines flow steadily across the cul-de-sac.
With all of the inherent powers of the universe and my being, I summon the calming powers of Netflix and snack food. In the 1800's I would have burned at the stake for my powerful witchcraft.
Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs 2 begins and silence falls over the crowd of tiny humans. And, almost as fast as the calm has rolled in, someone realizes that the other kids all have more popcorn in their bowls.