While going about my daily routine, the theme song from Indiana Jones popped into my head with such force that I started singing the tune out loud. I wondered where the inspiration for such music arose and then I looked at what I was doing. I was barefooted, maneuvering about the basement playroom, in a zig-zag pattern trying to avoid sharp impale-able toys, massive pile ups of metal monster trucks, pillow volcanoes surrounded by blankets of lava, chair bridges, several train derailments, plastic armor of many a fallen centurion, and many, many more remnants of the Land of Imagination atrocities. What made it even more Indiana Jones-ish was the fact that I was carrying a very large basket of the boys dirty laundry which blocked at least 50% of my vision, comparable to carrying some helpless female while swinging on a deteriorating rope, to safety. Safety being the top of the stairs, other wise known as the Cliffs of Insanity (different show, same feel). I made it and so did the helpless pile of laundry. Fortunately, the poisonous dart shooters were still at school and the only ones in real danger of poisoning were their teachers. Educators really do sacrifice a lot for those eager minds, life and limb if need be. I think the day the students start cooking and eating them, will be the day the union steps in for higher wages, whips, leather jackets, and well worn hats.