Oh My Gawd Sodagirl!
Oh The Fun.

October 12, 2005

See the 2 munchkins in the middle? Ya, well they’re not such munchkins anymore. Sean is 18 and Matt is 17. Both are way taller and bigger than me. They’re a couple of inches from 6ft. They’re past hubby too. Where does the time go?

I remember when we used to go out and had the kids with us, people would ask us if they were twins. They’re very close in age (hubby and I met when both boys were babies) so it was like having twins. Evil twins at times. They were as thick as thieves, those 2.

I remember a few years back….the boys were about 9 or so and they wanted to paint. Big deal right? Give them some paper and a little paint and you’re all set. WRONG. Hubby was doing taxidermy at the time, so he had bottles of paint. Lots of paint. Expensive paint. Paint in squirt type bottles. You can imagine where this is going.

The boys were bored. Asked hubby if they could paint. He said, sure, he’d take them down to his workshop and they could have a couple of bottles of paint and a big stack of paper. Heaven for 2 little rascals. So we both walk them down (the workshop is at the end of our driveway, a few feet from our house) and get them settled. Anthony gives them each a couple bottles of paint and some paper and says, get to it, have fun. We’d be down in a bit to check on them.

About half hour later, I decided to walk down and see what artsy fartsy type pictures they had made. Probably a few would go on the fridge. Or probably not.

OMG. I stop in my tracks in front of the workshop. The WHITE siding workshop. Well more like the now RAINBOW colored workshop. I’m standing there, mesmerized by the bright colors splashed upside the exterior of the shop. Wow, talk about art. NOT.

I don’t see demon boys anywhere outside, so they must be inside. I slowly walk up to the door and look in through the window in the door. MORE ART. I open the door and in a sort of half mother, half devil voice, yell, what the hell are you doing? Scared the shit out of them. Good, because it will be less mess when I hang them by their ears and torture them with cheese slices.

I slowly survey the room. I see paint bottles….many paint bottles, not just the FOUR that daddy had so kindly given them, but ALL of the paint bottles…..$700 worth of paint bottles, strewn about the office part of the shop. I see paint on the walls, on the floor, on the desk, on the filing cabinet, on the 2 cherubs I’m about to murder, on the ceiling. Just about every nook and cranny is splattered with paint. It looked like a paint crime scene. I was wondering where my forensics bag was so I could document the evidence. They just stood there, each holding EMPTY paint bottles which they quickly put behind their backs. Like I wouldn’t notice. You’d have to be one of the 3 fucking blind mice not to notice the carnage all around.

I ask, what’s going on boys? Nothing. Nothing at all. Really? All 3 of us are standing still, except our eyeballs are rolling all around looking at the $700 worth of paint decorating the office, in a not so flattering way I might add. I snapped out of my stupour and told them to stay put and I was on my way to get their father. And that he MIGHT just say the F word, which he never does but he JUST might this time. ‘Cause this was big shit man. I, secretly, was excited about the prospect of hearing him say it just once. I don’t say it either (I do get a kick out of writing it once in awhile), but it can be funny when used in the right context. I do enjoy hearing it once in awhile. Anyway I digress.

So I run up the driveway, throw open the door, scare the shit out of my husband and tell him, that he’d better get his ass down to the shop because there’s been a, ummm, a situation that has taken place. We go down and he sees the paint. Well you can’t really miss it. I’m pretty sure his jaw broke from hitting the floor. We discuss selling them on the black market but figured since we didn’t really know anyone involved with the black market, that that option was really not plausible. What to do, what to do? Adoption? Hmmmm. Sending them to the circus was discussed but since we didn’t have any connections to circus people, that that might not work either.

We ended up buying them each a notebook and making them write out I will not destroy property ever again 500 times. They did it. And I still have the books in my keepsakes box. Oh and we still have the boys too.

Posted by Sassy @ 7:17 pmKids1 comment  

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