Ever wonder why I look like hell in the morning? Do you wish that every once in awhile, I'd seem fresh as a daisy at 8:00am on a Monday, having had the entire weekend to rest? It seems reasonable. You only demand 40 hours a week from me (in fact, you regulate the aforementioned 40 as if I might collapse under the terrible strain of sitting for --gasp!-- 40.5 hours at a desk... that last 1/2 hr might just do me in), and in return all you ask is that I'm cheerful for the small amount of time we spend together. Do you wish I wouldn't get off the phone and say, "That lady reminds me of my two-year-old?"
To this very reasonable proposition, I have the following to say: I'm sorry, it will never happen. EVER. That's all. Mainly because of stories like this...
By Sunday evening, I had been going straight for about 6 consecutive days. The week had been spent on a business trip, and I don't really sleep away from home. I don't sleep at home either, but for entirely different reasons. In addition, Rachel had been playing heroine for 5 days while I was away, and was understandably a little tired of said muglets, so I spent a little more time with them over the weekend than normal. By the time 6:00 pm rolled around, we could all have used a little time away from one another. Aryel took this to heart and started crawling without any notice whatsoever, which led to a couple of "where the heck is he?" moments before we finally got our act together, and the regular wars that are waged daily by the remainder of the troops were met with great wrath by the governing body (ME)! So when Elijah proposed that we go out for ice cream to redeem the free sundae he had received from his karate academy, it seemed like a great idea,
(Keep in mind that the only defense I can offer in retrospect is that we were pretty tired (tired enough that the kids offered to drive -- I think I'm joking) at this point and we may not have considered just how amped that they would be. I know -- it sounds weak to me too.)
The rest of the trip unfolded something like this:
(Car pulls out of driveway.)
Judah: Dad, we're going the wrong way!
Me: Your mom hasn't even gotten out of the parking lot yet.
Elijah: Yeah, we're going to the other ice cream place.
Jael: What other one? Are we still getting ice cream?
Aryel: (High pitched squeaking roughly translated as, "I'm getting ice cream, right? RIGHT?)
Elijah: I'm getting peppermint stick!
Judah: Me too.
Elijah: Ok, then I'm getting candy cane.
Judah: Me too.
Rachel: They're the same thing.
Elijah: Ok, then I'll get peppermint stick and Judah can get candy cane. That way everyone can have what they want and we don't have to get the same kind.
... we continued in that vein until yours truly lost it (about 2 seconds) and demanded that nobody speak the rest of the trip until we got there.
We pulled in and ambled over to the sign that held all the ice cream flavors.
Elijah: See, Candy cane!
Judah: (points at same thing) Peppermint stick!
I should have gone back to the not-speaking gig at this point, but again, I was tired. That is going to be my excuse throughout the entire post. Get used to it. Somehow, we dragged them up there, ordered a cup, then a cone, then a cup again, for pretty much everyone (God bless the long-suffering high schooler behind the glass trying to make a little extra weekend money), and dragged everyone back to the car whining because they couldn't stand out in the rain to eat their ice cream.
So there we were, in an SUV in the rain. It was like a romantic ice cream date with your sweetheart if the Goonies dropped in.
Judah: Dad!
-- Yes!?
Judah: Are we going to go soon... my ice cream is dripping!
--Um, no eat it now. We aren't driving anywhere while you eat.
Judah: Oh.
Elijah: I'll eat it.
Judah: NO!
Elijah: Ok, well, if you change your mind, I'm just about done mine. Here, I'll lick it for you.
(The response was in the negative.)
Jael: De-wicious!
Elijah: Are you done?
Jael: Mmm-hmm.
Elijah: Thanks! (Starts in on ice cream #2) Dad, you done?
---Aren't you going to be full?
Elijah: Oh no, my belly has special rooms for ice cream. Mama, are you going to need some help?
Rachel: No, thanks, Elijah.
Aryel: (high pitched squealing roughly translated as "I'm here to help!")
Finally, five minutes and fifty volunteer efforts from Elijah and Aryel to 'help' with the ice cream, we headed for home, Judah decided to help clean Jael's fingers by licking them clean (my Lord, sometimes it's like having cats), but we were almost home when an odd sound was heard from the back seat.
Judah: Oh, it LJ.
--Elijah, stop making that noise.
Elijah: I can't, Dad. It's my belly. It's telling me that it doesn't think that I should have any more ice cream -- EVER!
...And you can imagine the rest. So if I ever drag into work, looking like it was a rough night indeed, it probably was...
But the good news is, I'm so talented, I can look like hell without any alcohol being involved whatsoever. Cheers!
'
I bet you learned everything you know from your Dad.
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