A brief synopsis of the weekend

This weekend had a bevy of ridiculous things that happened. A cornucopia of the absurd, if you will. As each thing happened, my family looked at me speculatively.

“This is going in the blog, isn’t it?”

Oh yeah.

Things started out well on Friday.  My Honey and I aren’t as strict about bedtimes on the weekends, consequently, the Bandit falls asleep on the couch most weekend nights. I think I’ve told you before how we will wake him up enough to guide him as he stumbles down the hall. We make a pit stop in the bathroom then he falls into bed.

So I steered him into the bathroom, pulling off his shirt along the way, and poked him awake so he could pee. My Honey and I always laugh because he’s just like a drunk, swaying, while you try to keep him awake so he can aim for the toilet.

This night he was no less “drunk.” In fact, he was mumbling something while he scratched his bare belly. He looked remarkably like Al Bundy.

“What?” I asked because I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

He leaned his head back and scratched. “I already have a girlfriend.”

What? I started to giggle. I tease him all the time about girlfriends, and at nine he does not find this funny. I asked him to repeat himself.

Still scratching, he mumbled, “I already have a girlfriend.”

Oh, this was delicious. “Who is it?”

“I already have a girlfriend.” He was emphatic, which made me wonder who was hitting on my baby in his dream.

“Who’s your girlfriend?”

He scratched and mumbled. I repeated my question, but his mumbling was no clearer. I asked three times and got nothing. He finally finished going to the bathroom and staggered to his room.

I interrogated his sister, but she didn’t know anything about the mystery girl. Neither did his father when I did a spot on imitation of his confession.

As you can imagine, this has given me a great deal of fodder with which to tease him.

When we ate pizza for lunch, I asked. “What kind of pizza does your girlfriend like?”

When he put on his favorite red shirt I asked, “What’s your girlfriend’s favorite color?”

We will proceed along these lines until I no longer find it funny. So maybe by the time he goes to college.

Then on Saturday, we went to a Coyotes Hockey game My Honey got me for Christmas. I don’t know why this always happens, but he always, ALWAYS, has a maniac sitting behind him. Last time, the woman was hopelessly drunk and beyond obnoxious.

This time the fellow behind him had a moronic running commentary the entire time.

“Didhehitthepuck? Ithinkhedid. Yeah,hehitthepuck. Didthatguyfalldown? Yeah,hefelldown. Musthavehitaroughpatchontheice. Doyouthinkhe’sok? Yeah,hegotuphe’sok.”

At no time did it seem his companion, TheOtherGuy, needed to contribute to the conversation at all. So if that wasn’t bad enough, TheOtherGuy started to complain about his leg.

“This damn thing’s been killing me all day.” He groused like this for several minutes and then WHAP! he hit My Honey in the back of the head.

Actually, more the point, he kicked him in the back of the head. Before My Honey could recover enough to do anything about this, a prosthetic leg came flying over the back of the seat and landed next to him.

What does one say to this? “Um, hey. You’re leg seems a little out of control.”

Great paroxysms of laughter ensued.

Sunday, I was appealed to by the family to make Eggplant Parmesan. I have no idea what they were thinking. I’ve explained to you all on any number of occasions how the kitchen and I don’t really get along. Nevertheless, everything was in the oven and I set the pot on the stove to boil and went back to the office to work. The smoke detector alerted me to a problem–three-inch flames coming off the burner. The wrong burner, I might add. I

A reenactment. My actual kitchen isn’t this neat.

hadn’t even turned on the right burner under the pot.

“What the hell was on the burner?” My Honey yelled at me while we hyperventilated trying to blow out the flames.

I shrugged. I have no idea what could have been on there.

Eventually, the flames were extinguished. Ava was mad because I didn’t have video of the fire. WGR was irritated on my behalf because I didn’t get to call the fire department. Dinner took an extra forty-five minutes so the kids were tweaked about that.

In the end, dinner was good, although Sassy took great delight in informing me hours later that I forgot to turn off the oven. I reminded The Bandit to wash his arm pits in the shower because I doubted his girlfriend enjoyed smelly pits. And nary a fake leg was tossed.