Wednesday, January 12, 2011

How Embarrassing!

My son and the neighbor are at my house yesterday afternoon working on a project.  I’m on the computer and out of the corner of my eye I see them walk out the door.  Time passes and it’s time to rally the troops for dinner so I call next door to have them send my son home. “Um,” my neighbor replies, “The boys are at your house.”  “Oh yes, that’s right," I say,  "I forgot that after they finished their project I sent them outside to tap the keg for the strippers.  Silly me!  I’ll send your boy right home.”  Not skipping a beat, my neighbor replies,  “No need.  I’ll be right over to get him.  You did say ‘strippers’ right?”  How embarrassing!  Our detached garage is morphing in to a teen hang-out and they were, very safely, out there playing video games.  (Hey, they had just completed an Honors Chemistry project, who am I to deny them a game of Black Ops to relieve a little stress?)

Of course, just the day before, it was the neighbor’s turn to be embarrassed.  I went to pick the kids up at their school after their respective practices, only their son was not there waiting with my kids. “Where’s David?” I asked.  “I don’t know,” my son says, “I saw him turn around shortly after we started running so I thought maybe he had a club meeting or something that he forgot about.  His backpack’s not in our usual spot so I guess his mom must have picked him up.” 

Now remember, this was the day before the “I don’t know where the kids are” incident, which means I still have “responsible parent” status, which means I’m not going to just leave without knowing for sure where David is.  We call his cell phone, but he’s not answering, so we call his house. His mom answers and says that she has not, in fact, heard from David.  She says that though it’s odd for him to just disappear like that, she is not actually worried so she tells us to go ahead and leave; she’s sure he’ll call her soon (and she assures us that she will let us know once this happens).  I'm still not 100% comfortable just leaving so we make one final attempt to find him…my son checks the library and goes back to the track to check there one last time.  No David.  No David backpack.  So we head home. 

We are about a block from our house and his mom calls and says, “Guess where my knucklehead son was?  He had to go the bathroom ‘real bad’ so he turned around and when he got back to the school he moved his backpack and was stretching somewhere else!” 

Shouldn't there be some sort of "poop policy?"  Perhaps I'll make an “I’m pooping, please don’t leave me” sign in the event of future “evacuation” situations. 

Oh boy, I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!

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