High noon. A lone tumbleweed blows across the driveway. I find this a bit strange, since we're in Ohio. Nonetheless. In the distance, music plays. No, it's not a ballad from an old Clint Eastwood movie. It's worse. More sinister. It's Raffi. It's "Baby Beluga."
We meet again. A smile plays the corner of her mouth. Her hair is windblown. Or should I say... she has bedhead. She's the meanest bandit this side of the Rio Grande. She's Sadie the Kid. And what's worse is that she has her sidekick, Mean Green Josephine, right by her side. She looks me right in the eye. She's not scared. She laughs. So cute that it's frightening; yet I can't look away.
We're not fighting over cattle. We're not fighting over whiskey. We're not even fighting over bedtime. It's much worse than that. It's... it's... spinach. "Don't like it!" she yells. She glares at me through squinty eyes. If looks could kill, I'd be a goner. She reaches for her weapon. It's a 4-prong pewter revolver. Without even counting to three, she chucks it at me. Spinach flies. Mean Josephine roars her infamous roar, then laughs. They don't call her Mean "Green" for nothing. The mashed peas all over her face don't leave any questions unanswered.
I won't lie. I'm scared. I'm outnumbered. They've got me surrounded. Will brains or brawn prevail? I do the only thing I can think of. I try to talk her down. I threaten her with jail. I threaten her with whippins. I even threaten her with No Juicebox. The only thing that makes her blink an eye is the thought of the dreaded time-out. She leans back... she lowers her backup weapon... I can tell she's weighing her options. Mean Josephine cries out in disbelief, "Blab-ab-ab-AH!" as if to say, "Don't do it, Kid! Don't listen to her threats!" But I know I've got her on the run.
When she asks for her Snoopy, I know I have her. Sheriff Mommy wins this feud. But just how far will Sadie the Kid and Mean Green Josephine go to rule the West - um, I mean, Northeast? Stay tuned to find out.
