However, before I delve into the harrowing tale I would like to give some background information:
At the beginning of the hour, the swarms of children in my front yard were each presented with a water gun, as it was the first warm day we have had in a week or so, and my mother wanted to give them something to do. (If left to their own devices they take great pleasure in things like digging trenches in the backyard, and erecting makeshift camps out of tarps and pointy sticks, before going at each other with the ferocity of honey badgers fighting over the last bee hive in the world. In short, someone generally gets hurt.)
Now, anyone who has ever witnessed or taken part in a water fight knows that the rules, if any are set to begin with, go out the window rather quickly, and this fight was no exception.
It started out as a lighthearted and playful game, but quickly descended into a backstabbing, hose-misusing, screaming fest...And it is all the fault of the evil temptress that is the garden hose.
You see, initially the child in possession of the hose was entrusted with the duty of filling up the water guns as they were emptied, and took obvious pride in carrying out their duty with an official and altruistic air. Unfortunately that was not to last. As time wore on, I watched the hose-bearer transform from a dutiful referee, to a power hungry monster, drunk on their own pride and ammunition, as they realized that they held in their tiny hands the greatest weapon of all.
They discovered that in their grasp they possessed an endless supply of water and soaking abilities with a 25 foot span, capable of drenching even the quickest and oldest of children in one deft motion.
It was the perfect storm.
Children scattered. Water guns were dropped, knees were scraped, one child even slipped indoors in a frenzied attempt to escape the all powerful garden hose.
It was too much.
The remaining warriors regrouped, and in an act of desperation decided to call upon the eternal power of the "Time Out".
Hands raised in a T formation, one of the older children boldly stepped forward in an attempt to curb the runaway train that was the hose-bearer. He stopped. There is no documented evidence of the cry of Time Out ever failing.
Harsh words were exchanged. The hose-bearer dropped the hose, slunk away to sulk and recover from the frenzy he had experienced, and a new hose-bearer was elected.
Democracy ruled the front yard once again.
That is, for the next approximately two and a half minutes.
Beware the garden hose, my friends.