Backyard Insanity

I think I'm insane. Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Every year, I buy a different sprinkler and expect the fun in my backyard to mirror the fun on the package.  Every year, I think this sprinkler is going to be different.  This sprinkler, with its enticing package featuring happy children, is going to be THE SPRINKLER that delivers on its promise of water delight.

This year, it did.  The octopus arms shot water all over the backyard and the children squealed with glee as they darted in between its sprays.  Then, 20 seconds later, as suddenly as the fun had started, it stopped.  The brightly colored octopus arms lay limp on the concrete, and water pooled around its happy yellow head.  Andrew crashed face first into our window bars and screamed.  The octopus sprinkler just kept staring at me, taunting me, with its cartoon eyes and its plastic, unapologetic smile. Shut up, octopus.

Luckily, other than a purple bruise on his cheek, Andrew was unscathed. I can't say as much for the stupid octopus.  It died a painful death, and I buried its sorry corpse in the trashcan.

Is that it?