Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Overheard


As the resident crazy person, I do all variety of lunatic things. My borderline behavior is probably due to a lack of sleep, too much vodka, a generalized personality disorder, poisoning from my hair color, genetic defects of various sorts or perhaps just an overall lack of judgment when it comes to my children. For example, Andrew called me at work last week...

Kid: Hi Mom, I need to go to Sweden.
Me: OK.

That's not the worst thing that could happen. He could have said he needed to go to Uzbekistan. I don't have anything against Uzbekistan, but the plane tickets would be pricey and he'd miss a lot of school. Why would you NEED to go there anyway unless you're an arms dealer or in need of auto parts for your Volga? I digress...

Once when A&P were 9, we had a sleepover for nine of their friends- in our much smaller house. I did not learn from that experience, hence it was destined to be repeated....

Kid: I want to have a sleepover.
Me: OK.
Kid: We're inviting 10 friends.
Me: Each???
Kid: No.
Me: OK.

And so it goes. Two boys, ten friends, 8 pizzas, four gallons of ice cream, 6 bags of chips and a bag of marshmallows later, it's a sleepover for 11. (One of the invitees opted out of the festivities).

They all arrived at the appointed time of 6pm with sleeping bags and other stuff. One friend showed up with a clown car version of a duffel bag, large enough to hold a small sofa, containing a video camera, a tripod, Nerf guns, and every single XBox game from his home, much to the dismay of his brothers. We know this because a brother called to threaten his life.

Over pizza one kid offers:

Friend: I like girls.
Me: OK.
Friend: I'm a chick magnet.
Me: Not OK.

Later the friend's phone buzzes, repeatedly.

Me: Your phone is buzzing.
Friend: It's my lady friend.
Me: WHAT???
Friend: She's my lady, I met her on the Internet and she sends me texts. I've never met her.
Me: Not OK.

The friend returned to the ruckus. They stayed up all night- most of them. A few boys were curled up in various places. Arms were sticking precariously out of sleeping bags. Most were fully dressed. Some slumped over right where they were- game controllers in hand.

I'm not ready for the lady friends.

4 comments:

Pearl said...

Children cannot be trusted!

Thanks for stopping by my site, by the way. Regarding whether or not I'd be concerned spotting chicken feet in your grocery cart, I have to say that with the variety of innards and other animal parts now available in the stores, I'd say that wouldn't bother me.

But rootbeer, cereal, ice cream, etc? I will definitely call the police on your behalf as you are clearly being coerced by children.

:-)

Pearl

Sparky ♥ ∞ said...

Say, how did you find out about me (aka lady friend)?! I'm in it for the ice cream and pizza. HAR HAR! JK!
I laughed so hard I almost spit coffee on the screen!
Gosh, kids start early now, don't they? I wouldn't be ready for the lady friends either. [shudder] I didn't notice boys until I was 15 ... funny thing, it was the same year my father went gray headed ... ♥ ∞

JBA said...

Pearl, I was at the grocery a few weeks ago and there was an older Russian woman in the meat section with her Grandson- also Russian- who spent a lot of time barking into his cell phone. Anyway, the Grandma bought every single package of pig's feet in the case. I did stare at their cart. It looked like a bad day for the 3 little pigs.

Sparky: you crack me up girl. Not only do twelve year old boys eat ice cream and pizza, but their fingernails are never clean and they only shower every 4 or 5 days and that's only after you beg. Have fun at your rally!

Barry said...

Sleepovers!!

I remember them well. Or, rather, since we had two daughters, I remember the ear splitting screams in the middle of the night and they either told ghost stories or deliberately set about terrifying each other.

Come to think of it, they shouldhave been called just "overs" because I don't recall a lot of "sleep" happening at any of them