I dropped the boy off bright and early this morning for a week of science camp.
He came back on the bus covered in dirt and sweat and stink, and then he immediately asked if he could go home with Kellen to play, and I said, “Yes.”
It’s because I was hoping he’d have a chance to air out a bit at Kellen’s house, before I had to bring him into OUR house, because sweet mercy! I had just cleaned things at the Jedi Manor, and then, once the estate was good enough for the Queen’s visit, my own sweet mama came over and said, “I’m bored at my house; I thought maybe we could detail your Suburban for you.”
My mom, you see, does not enjoy sitting still. She enjoys being active and working and contributing to the world. I did not inherit this trait from her on my DNA ladder, because I can thoroughly enjoy three uninterrupted hours of laying on the sofa like a slug, staring at the ceiling and merely contemplating being active and working and contributing to the world around me.
But, we did scour the Suburban, and I am ashamed to tell y’all that it could not have been any dirtier to start with if a band of swarthy, swearing, sea-faring pirates had been driving it around town for a month.
Pirates like this:
This was the boy, circa 2005. He was four-and-a-half years old, and this is how he looked most every day. He dressed like this at home. And in Walmart. And at the park. And on playdates. However, Hubs and I always made him ditch the sword and the earring for church on Sunday mornings.
Come to think of it, that may be THE EXACT PIRATE who left all of his treasures in the backseat of my Suburban.
Rest assured, the kid is going to walk the plank if he messes up all of my mama’s hard work, because low! The Suburban is CLEAN!
It’s SO clean, in fact, I’d like to take y’all for a ride, before Captain Blackbeard returns, so let me know if I can pick you up for a meeting.
(Don’t tell Hubs, but that’s what a couple of my girlfriends and I have taken to calling our time spent on the sofa at Starbucks. That way, if Hubs calls me, I can whisper into the phone, “Honey, can I call you back later? I’m actually in a meeting right now.”)
(I actually think that Hubs is on to me, though. The last time he called and I told him that I was in a meeting, he told me to bring him a mocha when we had adjourned.)
Happy Monday evening, people.