We’ll never learn our lesson

We’re going to Disneyland this week – the week between Sassy’s and The Bandit’s birthdays. We told the kids there wouldn’t be birthday parties this year because of the expense of the trip. Instead, we’d agreed that the boy could invite a friend to spend the night and we’d take them to see Iron Man 3 since it came out on his birthday.

“A friend” turned into two friends and a nephew. Counting his sister, My Honey and I took five kids to Peter Piper Pizza and the movies.

This is an actual photo of the slumber party. My boy is right there in front.

Really it was more like taking a frat house on a tour of a holy museum.

Eight year old boys are insane. They are teeth gnashing, screaming, amok running lunatics. We let them run wild in the pizza place – it’s not like anyone would notice that they were any more out of control than any other random kid there. We left for the movies early because we knew there’d be a line at the theater even though I had bought the tickets earlier in the day. Only a couple of hours in and My Honey and I were already exhausted. We finally made them sit on the floor in the lobby. I’m sure all the other patrons were happy they weren’t swinging from the light fixtures anymore.

It’s like they feed off the energy of exhausted parents.

They all sat rapt in the movie – as did I. I loved the film. Or maybe I loved Robert Downey, Jr. It’s really hard to separate the two. Either way, my crush is firmly fixed.

We got home and had cake and ice cream.

The party got more and more like a scene from Animal House. There were boys everywhere in their underwear. Boys climbing on furniture. Boys running around the house making gun noises. Confusingly, bean bags were flying around the house. Even the girl was caught up in the action. The most confusing development was that even though chaos reigned, they were the politest bunch of heathens you’ve ever met. When we told them to get off the shed roof, they said, “Yes, ma’am.” When asked not to chase the cat, they responded, “Yes, ma’am.” It was very disconcerting.

At midnight I made them all get in bed and turn out the light. I told them they didn’t have to sleep, but they couldn’t run up and down the hall anymore. Mere minutes later, I was still in the living room writing and heard the tell tale **pop fizz** of a soda can being opened. I found four pajama clad boys sitting in the dark, each poised with Sprite cans to their lips. In my head, I could see the few short years till I catch them with beers.

On Saturday morning I had to work. I’ve never been happier to go to that hell hole in my life.

These are the texts I got from My Honey:

MH – Can I come to work with you? I’m going to kill some kids! Where are they f****** mothers!

ME – They’ll be there soon. Hang tough.

MH – I think they’re in Mexico. I would be.

ME – Hahahahahahahaha (I laugh helpfully mostly because I’m safe at work)

MH – I keep hearing Louie Louie in my head! It’s Delta House over here.

ME – Food fight!!!!!!

MH – One down two to go

ME – It’s getting quieter!

MH – No.

ME – Impossible!

Eventually all the kids left. When I got home, the frat house was mostly cleaned up. My Honey had marginally less hair.

The girl gets to do it in 2 weeks for her birthday. I can hardly wait.