Monday, February 6, 2012


I've been bamboozled.

You see on the days I pick Grayson up after soccer he is spent.  I usually get a nice quiet afternoon because he immediately needs to recharge.   He doesn't typically sleep but it's so rare this child is physically depleted.  I freaking love soccer class.

Today I asked him to recharge in the store while I shopped for tops that don't make me look like a caterpillar (all cotton Ts) or six months pregnant (the rest of the things I own). 

He went for it at first.  A shirtless Abby next to him (Don't ask, we're hoping Hooters gives scholarships.) agreed to shop too.  Of course I had to bribe them with a promise of a new toy but hey, I will be happy to spend two dollars on a plastic aircraft carrier with a busted up Captain's chair.  We were on our way to the thrift store.  I know, lucky kids.

Three streets away Grayson decides he is just too tired.  Major sleepy award winning yawns.  Can he take a rest in the store?  Will there be a chair on which he may rest his weary head?

You know of course the peanut gallery has to concur.  She is suddenly so very very tired and must also find a bench on which to rest her weary weary head.

I'm sure Sadie would've chimed in with a heaving sigh of exhaustion too had she been...well...awake.

(I should probably test my car for radon.)

I give in.  Thrift or not, this adventure will not end well if I force the constituents to participate against their will.  And plus, who am I to argue about a little nap action at 3pm?

I should've seen it coming.

Nobody slept.  Grayson did a Yeoman's job of pretending until I heard some sort of galactic showdown complete with soapy puddles in his bathroom.  What the hell goes in in a boy's bathroom I will never know.  My mom always said I would be surprised at how filthy a boy child can make a bathroom with nothing but a washcloth, Matchbox cars, and his own devices.  She was right.  Absolute domestic mayhem up in there.  I honestly did not clean it up.  Forced him to cease fire, retreat and close the door behind him.   

Abby did rest somewhat though and we will all rue the minute I allowed that to happen come 9pm or so when she is doing a back handstand on the kitchen table screaming, "Give me Nonie crackers or give me death!"

Next time, we are going to the thrift store.

I will not buy the B.S. they are selling and I may just throw in a trip to the post office for screwing with me today.

Little baby manipulators, I fear you not.

You may be clever but I'm on to you now and will smell your performance chops a mile away.


JRitz said...

Hooters scholarships, messy boys, etc. Now this was funny! As always, thanks for sharing.

OSMA said...

Thank you, JRitz. Abigail has us worried and Grayson has no more free time in the bathroom unless he also has tile cleaner. :)