Posted by jdg | Monday, June 18, 2007 |

During the winter, we walked past a construction site every day where the workers all wore face-masks or wool hats that left nothing exposed but their eyes.

"What are those ninjas doing?" Juniper would ask.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that the ninjas were building a casino. "They're making a special house where all the owls will live." One day I will have to explain why only chain-smoking oldsters with fanny packs full of nickels go in and out of the building. When she asks where the owls are, I'll just tell her they are up in the penthouse suites.

On Friday afternoon, when we arrived home from the grocery store for nap time, there were construction workers tearing out our front stoop with a jackhammers. This was unexpected.

"What are those ninjas doing to our house?" She asked.

We had to wait until they took a cigarette break before we could get inside. When they were done sucking on their Marlboros and we were inside, it sounded exactly like you would expect three guys with jackhammers tearing out our front stoop to sound. Her bed vibrated like one with a quarter slot in a fleabag motel. Juniper just sat in my lap sobbing.

"What are those ninjas doing to our house, dada?"

I had no idea myself. I just held her in my lap for what would have been the duration of her nap. Damn, I thought. All those months of ninja goodwill, completely down the drain.