Before our esteemed philosopher's latest, some background:
Tate love to make bonfires with his Bompa, or "Bomps" as he's recently been dubbed. Recent weather (wind, low temps, inversions), and the political climate (a recent wild fire near Bomps' house) have prevented him from enjoying fire time.
In an effort to get his fix in, he swiped some matches and started a small leaf fire in the garage. Needless to say, we weren't thrilled and let him know so. The burnables he'd collected (he's got a box that he uses to to stash materials in hold until the next trip to Bompa's) were therefore subject to confiscation, much to his dismay.
A few days after the confiscation, the following appeared on our bed (no spelling or punctuation changes have been made):
Dear Mr. and Mrs. AndersonDan Snarr is the Mayor of our city and a staple at school events. In Tate's mind, he's quite the celebrity. The other signatories should be familiar to you.
Did you know it is agenst the law #600 no throwing away your son's burny box
stuff? Your under arrest.
Signed,The Police, Dan Snare, The garbageman and Mr. Obama
P.S. Your in really big trouble.
If harboring resentment is an olympic sport, Tate is training for the Nationals presently. We're pretty sure he'll get over it, but for now we're anxious for the next fire episode so he can get it out of his system.
