December 14, 2012

My Daughters, Infected (Me Too!)

A plague has descended upon my home.

A pestilence so vile and vulgar that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta have sent me a letter stating that, in accordance with the Public Safety Act of 2005, I must tent my home and place signs in my yard declaring it a quarantined site.  They have even sent me a beautiful, high quality vinyl banner to hang on my door that reads "Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here!"

What, pray tell, is the name of the sorrow and misery that now infests my domicile?

The contagion goes by the name ... Dora!  (bum bum BAAAAA)

Woe unto us.  WOE UNTO US!  I thought I was a good father.  I thought I was doing what was best for my children.  I can only assume that Harper caught this ailment at day care and spread it to her sister.

Symptoms in children will vary from those in adults.  In children, symptoms include calling for Dora at all hours of the day, yelling nonsense word that sound like Spanish, but are not, and a burning desire to carry a backpack full of random items.

In adults, the disease manifests in a more vicious way.  All songs that the infected adult has ever known suddenly turn into insipid chanting about traveling from place to place, interspersed with random Spanish words.  Years of membership in choirs, and the musical accumulation that accompanied them, flow out of the ears of said grown-ups and puddle on the floor, to quickly evaporate into the ether, never to be seen again.

The infected adult will find themselves responding to normal questions in the vocal intonation of Swiper the Fox. (Aw, MAN!)  They will find themselves, alone in the car, asking, and answering questions about destination (Where are we going? To the big red building where I work!) and wondering where the trumpet playing snails are for musical accompaniment.  They will find themselves wondering where the mean old troll is, and what riddle they will have to answer, when entering the Turnpike.

Please.  Spread awareness so that in the future, this horrid disease can be controlled and, hopefully one day, cured.

Thank you for your attention.  This message has been a service of Adults Against Terrible Kids Programming.



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