Funny Guy Friday… This. Means. War.

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So… I married a funny guy...
     Several months ago, I went to the drug store with a singular mission in mind… to buy myself a hair brush. I did not need anything fancy, just a brush that I could call my own.
     You see, every morning, I would wake up, get in the shower, wash my hair, towel dry and then blow dry my hair. Time after time, when I would go to dry my hair, the brush I had used the previous day was no longer where I had left it. This would give rise to the naked hunt for the stolen brush. I had gotten tired of the naked hunt.
     Once I purchased my brush, I announced to the family that this was my brush and it was not to leave my bathroom. I even thought about getting one of those little chains that the bank uses to keep people from stealing its pens, but I was afraid it would limit my brushing range. Besides, I felt that my special announcement was enough to carry the day.
     For several months, things went as planned. The brush resided in the bottom drawer of my vanity and was there at the ready. Life was good. Life was peaceful.
     Until this week!!!!
     On Monday morning, I woke up, got into the shower, washed my hair, towel dried my hair and then went to blow dry my hair… no brush. How could this be? I made my announcement and everything.
     The hunt was back on and I immediately went to my first suspect, Gracie.
     My baby girl looked so sweet and innocent snoozing away with her covers all snug and tucked under her chin. I stood there and looked at her for a few seconds, remembering the good old days when I would come home from work and she would entertain me with her rendition of a new cute song accompanied by a twirling dance. Or she might dazzle me with her vast knowledge of colors or letters of the alphabet. She was so smart, so cute and so talented. As I lovingly watched her sleep, I could hear my little girl belting out a chorus of The cannibal king with the big nose ring, fell in love with the dusty mai-ai-aid… or Twinkle, twinkle little star. 
     I was thinking how I love her more than words can say!
     And then I saw it.
     That little witch stole my hair brush!
     This act of insubordination was akin to the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand. You remember that… it started World War I. This war was on, and Grace would soon find out that if you take one of mine, I'll take two of yours.
      I rescued my brush from enemy grounds, and under the cover of early morning darkness, while the opposing army slept, I took both her blow dryer and her curling iron.
     As I completed my mission, I was greeted by my lovely wife. As is the case with all great Generals, the support of family is crucial. In some ways, having Cheryl as an ally was instrumental to the success of this mission. I eagerly explained Grace's act of war and my counter attack. As I spoke, I could hear a confident, diabolical laugh rising up from within me. Okay, it was more of an amused giggle, but it was a confident, amused giggle.
     My lovely wife's reaction was a bit unexpected, and by unexpected, I mean completely expected. She was not supportive at all. In fact, she called me a name and told me that my idea was ridiculous. I quickly responded with Nuh-uh… besides... she started it!
     So now it was clear, I was on my own. But I was not deterred. I have done stuff without Cheryl's support in the past (nothing immediately comes to mind, but I am sure that I have). I placed the stolen items in my room and advised my Benedict Arnold of a wife that if she knew what was good for her, she would remain neutral. I was not above taking her stuff, if need be.
     I left for work that morning with only one regret. I wish I could have been there when Grace finally woke up and discovered that her stuff was missing. I was sure that there would be wailing in the streets and gnashing of teeth when she discovered that she was going to be inconvenienced and that she was going to have to travel half-naked down the hallway. I love the smell of desperation in the morning; it is the smell of victory. I was sure that she would call my office waiving the proverbial white flag.
     I would have to wait until mid morning to get my response. It was not the lily-livered response that I was looking for. In fact, the message that she posted on my Facebook page was a bit shocking. THIS. MEANS. WAR.
     I don't think she had really thought this through. I have tons of stuff at my disposal, and she has just a few items that are in her bedroom. If I stole two of her things to every one she stole from me, this war would be over in ten days. This was like a fly declaring war on the swatter……unless, of course, she had something else in mind.
     I got home early that day and found her lying on my bed playing on her ipod. I snuggled up next to her and she ignored me, continuing to play on her ipod. One would think that this was part of her strategy, ignoring her enemy, but I knew better. She ignores me while playing on her ipod even in times of peace.
     I broke the ice and asked how school went that day, and she advised that she still had some work to do. This begged the question Then why are you lying on my bed playing with your ipod? 
     As principal of our little home school, I advised her that it was in her best interest to get up and get back to work. As she left the room, she turned and she smiled. She never looked prettier. How could someone so sweet and so innocent be involved in this type of ugly struggle? Is it possible that I have overblown this hairbrush thing? Then with a twinkle in her eye, she said, I like home school a lot better when the principal is not home! 
     Ouch! A dagger.
     Maybe her strategy has nothing to do with taking any more of my stuff. Maybe she is content to break my heart. Again, I quickly responded, Oh yeah?… well… then... you uh… can… uh... quit home school and go back to that public school! 
     This immediately made me think of two things. First, I need to work on my comebacks. And second, Grace and I both knew that the public school comment was just an idle threat. You see, Grace still has a mother, and I still have a wife, and both her mother and my wife are very happy with the whole home school thing.
     My heart can't take this. This war has to end.
     I consulted Cheryl on an exit strategy. Buy Grace a hairbrush! she advised.
     That's it? I buy her a hairbrush. Good thing that Cheryl is not in charge of our foreign policy, or we wouldn't try to stop Iran from developing atomic weapons; we would just give them some of ours. No, I can't buy her a hairbrush… but Cheryl could.
     Of course, this would require some back room negotiations and would have to be done without my knowledge or consent. This could work… but the brush could not be traced back to my administration. I advised Cheryl to use cash to purchase the brush but not my cash. I needed plausible deniability. She would have to borrow the money from Matthew.
     I was sure that peace was just around the corner with Grace.
     Unfortunately, it seems that there's another battle brewing on a different front.
     Yesterday, I was lying on my bed, minding my own business, when Noah came running out of my bathroom waving my hairbrush in the air as he ran into his room, yelling, What you gonna do now, Daddy? 
     We are one step away from a nuclear option. NO HAIR, NO BRUSH!
     That's right... I shave everyone bald and nobody needs a brush. A bit drastic, but it ensures the peace for the rest of our lives… unless something else were to come up that would cause a conflict in our family.
     Nah, what are the chances of that happening. I mean seriously... what could be more important than a hairbrush?