Sweaty Boys and Cobras

We have just returned from Gymnastics Land, USA, which is a thirty-mile jaunt down the highway from Small Town, USA.

Hubs went with us tonight, which was actually a good thing, because my carload of punks was small. We had the boy, and we had Ryan, and we had two iPods loaded with movies. The boy and Ryan stuffed their headphones into their ears, slouched down in their seats, and immediately resembled two teenagers, although they’re both only nine years old. I’m not sure that they spoke four words on the entire trip, because they were focused on the three-inch tall theater screens.

I’m not sure if having a three-inch screen that a small boy can watch movies on is any better than the nineteen-inch TV that my sister and I grew up with. It lacked a remote, and if my sister and I wanted to change channels, we had to actually get up, walk across the living room, and twist the dial.

But alas. We had one crystal clear channel, and one channel that was nothing but snowy-like fuzz, so changing the channel wasn’t even an option. But you know…HAD WE BEEN GIRLS WITH CABLE, we totally would have gotten our exercise when we channel surfed. Had we been girls with cable, we also would have understood all the hype when Alf rose to fame. As it was, we were the only two girls in Small Town, USA who had no idea who the cat-eating alien was. It was a deprived life that the two of us sisters lead. In fact, I remember when a friend of mine wore a bright yellow T-shirt to school one day in the 4th grade, and it said, “I Shot JR” across the front of it. I didn’t get the joke.

Because I was a girl without cable, and I’d never seen Dallas a single time in my life.

Thank goodness the crystal clear channel that we did get was home to Charles In Charge. I’m not sure that I could have functioned in polite society without my weekly dose of Scott Baio.

The boys’ gymnastics coach wore them out tonight. And when I say wore them out, I mean that Coach had them flipping around so much, the boy’s hair became wet with sweat, and he began to pant like a dog crossing the Sahara as he whined, “Water!”

Hubs and I looked at each other and said, “Score! We’re going to bed early tonight!”

Until the boy piped up, exactly four miles from Small Town, USA, and said, “Oh crud! I forgot I have to make a clay sculpture of a king cobra for my report tonight.”

People, if there’s anything I adore more than chocolate, it’s starting a clay sculpture at 8:00 on a school night.

Can I get an “Amen” here?

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