Girls, girls, girls
Today we went to a family comedy-hypnotist show in the afternoon and when we got home, even after goofing off quite a bit with a bunch of other kids outside the performing arts center, there was plenty of daylight left for hanging out in the back yard. For my older two, anyway. My youngest wanted to finish the movie that I made him pause in order to go to the event in the first place.
The Bigs and their friend who had come over were talking to (taunting and teasing) girls over the back fence. The girls were their friend’s sister (in the same class as my oldest), and her two friends (a year and maybe two older). I had to yell out the kitchen window a few times, “Put that bat down!” “Don’t climb on the fence.” “Get off the shed.” These were all admonitions while they were in our yard.
Then they migrated next door with their friend. I was cleaning up the kitchen, washing dishes and such, and I could see into the neighbors yard. My oldest was hanging on something that looked like a dog run, which was attached to the railing of the porch on one end, and my middle son was “high sticking” a rake.
I yelled out the window again. “Don’t hang on that!” “Put that rake down!”
One of the older girls said to me, “Your son has really soft hair!”
Fortunately they all moved over to the trampoline, where my two and their friend proceeded to show off for the girls. God help me, was all I could think. My Bigs think they won’t be ready to have a girlfriend until they’re in sixth grade, at least. Sixth grade! We were still going on group dates in high school!
Anyway, the kids came back to our house with their friend and I fed them chicken nuggets and smiley fries and they played wii.
My boys asked me after the show, “Mom, how come you didn’t want to get hypnotized?”
“I couldn’t imagine leaving the three of you sitting alone in the audience while I was up on stage.” (Especially after the way they behaved in church this morning. Actually, my oldest is okay, but my younger two are very busy, and it’s my middle son who can’t stay on the pew, but still rolls around under them and in the aisle.)
Actually, after the show, I couldn’t imagine myself singing, dancing, or talking gibberish like the people up on stage. I had tried being hypnotized once, and it didn’t work. I was considerably younger, I think high-school age. Is it because the young are not easily hypnotized that the hypnotist preferred older candidates? Otherwise I would have sent my sons up to see if they could be hypnotized into doing chores or their homework, or taking showers without arguing. One of the other parents and I shared a chuckle over this at the end of the show.
My sons’ friend’s sister came over after dinner with cookies and joined us for egg coloring. It was impromptu and I hadn’t even boiled the eggs yet. I hadn’t even bought all the eggs yet (I only had a dozen), and I pressed another neighbor into service while I dashed across the street to the convenient supermarket. I let all the boys play wii in the basement as long as possible while this lovely young lady helped me measure out all the food coloring and vinegar (she counted drops and used a teaspoon). We discussed her friend’s comment about my oldest’s hair. She agreed that it was soft. I told her he uses conditioning shampoo. She said most boys don’t have soft hair. I told her I didn’t think most boys had long hair.
My middle son came up a few times to help. First he wanted to drop the pellets in. I told him we didn’t have pellets, we were doing it the old fashioned way, with food coloring. Then he called doing the red so he could pretend he was bleeding and freak out the other boys. He wanted to be first to use the clear crayon. I told him there was no clear crayon, we were doing it the old fashioned way, with Crayolas, but he could be first with the white one. I think he suesequently drew war scenes on his eggs with crayon before he dyed them…red.
When we were all done, we broke out the Easter candy.