Once upon a time not so long ago, my husband and I went out of town for a couple of days. We tried to minimize those excursions when our kids were still at home, but too old for sitters. Although they were bigger than we are, and quite adept at taking care of themselves, they are, after all, only human.
The house was under their control. But the individuals who might show up to share in whatever festivities took place in our absence were NOT under their control.
“No parties!” my husband warned them as we left the house.
The telephone often works better than an alarm clock at our house. It is almost irresistible, but only because we don’t have caller ID. When it rang, our son woke up enough to greet the person on the other end.
“We’re coming over,” a voice informed our son.
“OK,” our son mumbled in reply.
“Dad and Mom wouldn’t like this,” she observed. “Don’t make a mess.”
When my husband called that evening, he heard loud music in the background.
“What’s going on?” he shouted into the phone.
“We’re just watching ’80’s movies!” our daughter shouted back. “It’s not a party.”
“Send them home,” he ordered.
“There’s an issue,” he said.
“Just tell me,” I sighed.
“One of the boys sat on the ping-pong table. Then one of the girls gave him a hug, and the corner of the table broke off.”
That must have been some hug, I thought. What girls?
“Glue it back on,” I advised.
“We’re on our way home,” I told him.
We stopped at the grocery store on the way into town. One of the boys that works with our daughter was at the cash register.
“I heard about your ping-pong table,” he said. “That’s too bad. I didn’t go to the party last night, because I didn’t want to wear ’80’s clothes.”
“It wasn’t a party,” I replied.
copyright 2012 J. M. Naszady