Can We Keep Him?

The mammoth hole in the backyard is multi-purpose.  It was originally the site of an extensive dig in search of dinosaur bones.  These days, depending on what day it is, the crater can be anything from a swimming hole to a moat around twin volcanoes made of plastic water bottles heaped in mud.  Though currently inactive, these volcanoes will awaken on the fortunate day when the mother of the two boys supplies the vinegar and baking soda.  For now, the boys wait, fill the trenches with water, build and rebuild.    Playing in the mud is such fun; I can't see how some parents are against it.  Why, as a child I spent half my life with shovel in hand.  I guess this fascination with removal of earth is inherited.  Daddy was a digger too.  We sisters recall, with varied enthusiasm, his many projects.  We dug a cellar once.  Well twice.  For some reason, Daddy didn't like it the first time.  So he filled it in.  After it sat for a awhile, and the ground got good and hard, we redug it--in the exact original location!--by hand!--with shovels!  It started off as fun, but by the time the second cellar was nearing completion, we felt we were being subjected to the worst kind of forced child labor. I mean who wants to dig Daddy's hole in the backyard when you have your own 'tunnel to China' in the barn floor?  I had read Martyr of the Catacombs in school and was sure I could duplicate them.  There shouldn't be any problem--there was a map of the catacombs in the back of the book!  Once completed, they could serve as an underground highway, living quarters for the family in the event of a nuclear explosion or a Hiding Place for Jewish friends.    Yes, I read a lot.  And so do my boys.  Without the fetter of cable television, their minds still function and dream wild dreams as few children in this century can.  So to them, the 'hole' is important.  And big.  Both boys can get in it up to their armpits.  This large cavity in the ground is their entertainment of choice, providing me with time alone inside the house to mop muddy floors (again).    This hole is a hole of dreams.  It is an "if you dig it they will come" kind of thing.  And boy did those boys plan for 'them' to come!  Who exactly would come and fall prey to the hole was just a detail.  Why, it could be anybody!  The hole could be a squirrel trap!  That would be just fine.  But even better, what if a tiger fell in like in Swiss Family Robinson?  Of course, the very best thing that could happen would be for a prowler to bow the knee (or break the leg).  And so you can bet that last night when we returned home late and saw flashing red and blue lights in our alley, the boys were excited.  The police had the four blocks around our house sealed off.  There were about eight of them around the perimeter, two of those parked directly behind our house shining lights in our back yard.  We sensible parents have 'absolutely no sense of imagination' (Anne of Green Gables) and so we hadn't given thought to the backyard orifice.  That is, until it did its magic.  Don't even try to tell those boys that no one would ever come into the yard and fall into that hole!  O ye of little faith!  One Midland officer can testify that it is indeed a very good trap after all.    So they didn't catch their burglar… but isn't a cop in a hole just as exciting?  Fortunately, the officer was unhurt (and was released).  The hole remains.  Today it basks in the glory of its success…tomorrow it becomes an active volcano at last.  Long live the hole!  And long live the minds that can imagine that even the unimagineable can happen!    A true story.