Bullhorn

As if kids weren’t loud enough, someone decided to give my son a bullhorn for his birthday. A bullhorn.  

“Who hates our family this much?”, I thought as a trill of feedback sliced the air. His first impulse was to scream into the bullhorn. My ears barely stopped bleeding when he hit the police siren button, then the fart button. I chased him, a mix of hysterical laughter and butt burps trailing after him, wrestled the bullhorn away and threw another present in his arms as a diversion.

“Honestly, who would do this?”, I thought as he unwrapped another bullhorn.

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