Yesterday, I had three twelve-year-old boys in my house all afternoon, doing what junior high men do the very best.
They were playing video games.
And also shouting out things like, “So long, Sucker!” and “Did you see me blow that car up?! Oh, man! That was BEYOND cool.” Basically, they were hollering everything that a girl would never think of yelling.
Because do you know what I yell these days? “Get yourself DOWN off of that! You’re seventy-two feet up in the air, and you are going to fall and bust your neck plum in half!”
(Also? Well, boys do not necessarily play video games the way girls do. When I play the random game, which has to be Scrabble Blast or Ms. Pac Man, as those are the only two that can entertain me beyond three-fourths of a nanosecond, I lean sideways, tilt the controlling device sideways, stick my tongue out, crane my neck sideways, stick a leg out sideways, and eventually migrate closer to the TV.)
(Ms. Pac Man can become an aerobic workout, when the ghosts are hot on my tail.)
(There’s a lot of sidewaysness that goes on when I play it.)
I also had the stench of a dirty twelve-year-old boy in my house. It was that unshowered, MY FEET ARE GROWING AND STARTING TO SMELL LIKE A YETI’S FEET WHO ALSO HAPPENS TO SUFFER FROM TOENAIL FUNGUS smell, that I never had to deal with while I was growing up, because I lacked brothers.
(Sister was frightfully polite, and she showered daily. Sometimes twice a day. It’s the code of a teenage girl.)
I’ve never been more happy than when they all decided to go swimming yesterday, because that’s like a free car wash for boys. Chlorine can kill a plethora of smells. Chlorine is, in fact, the best friend of mothers to boys.
“Oh, good grief! Son, you smell horrid! Would you like to go swimming?”
The pre-teen boys ate forty-seven pounds of food out of my pantry, left wrappers all over the place, spilled one glass of water, forgot to flush the toilet twice, and thanked me profusely for feeding them and having them over.
They’re so sweet. They really are. The boy and his wolf pack of buddies make my heart glow with fondness. Even though they stink.
Thing 2 unloaded six kitchen cabinets yesterday afternoon, and he spread his new-found treasures all over the kitchen floor, exactly like he was setting them out for a garage sale. Except… I wasn’t selling any of that stuff, because I never host garage sales. After that, he discovered that HOLY SNOT, SUPERMAN! He could pull open the drawers on his dresser and just go on ahead and take all the jammies and jeans out. He thought that this called for partying like it was 1999.
I think it’ll come as no surprise that I’m adopting the following sign as my summer motto here at the Jedi Manor:
That’ll do. That’ll do just fine, people!