Vodka and Thin Mints – solving the worlds ills

The theme song from Indiana Jones alerted me to the phone call while I was at work.  I was surprised to see the caller ID show one of The Bandit’s friend’s Mom.  I was even more surprised when she told me why she was calling.  In fact, I think she might be insane.  Or horribly naive.  Or totally delusional.

She invited The Bandit to spend the night with her son.  I blinked several times and said nothing, but then came to my senses and readily agreed.  And then she told me the rest of it.  She was going to sell the boys to gypsies.  Oh, I wish, and she may by the time this story ends.  She’s also inviting two other boys to spend the night.  That’s four five-year-old boys.  Together.  For like fifteen hours.

Does it terrify you more when I tell you this merry band of boys is the entire membership of the famed Four Toddlers of the Apocalypse?

I offered to bring Vodka with the boy’s sleeping bag.  She’s under the impression that everything will be fine.  I don’t think she’s thought this thing through.  I, on the other hand, have.  Along with his sleeping bag and clean jammies, I giving her his medical insurance card and fifty bucks for a copay.  I plan to leave the state.

So I’m telling all of this to Kelli and I keep hearing crackling and other assorted muffled noises over the phone. 

“I just ate a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies,” she finally confessed.

“Oh, yeah.  I still need to get some of those,” I told her.  She’s the co-leader of her charming six year-old’s Daisy troop.  I don’t remember Daisies but apparently they come before Brownies which supersede the actual Girl Scouts.  Since Kelli’s semi-in charge, she runs around with a trunk load of cookies like some sort of suburban drug dealer.  Unfortunately, she’s broken the cardinal rule of drug dealing: she started using her own stash. Don’t I sound urban?  I’ve watched Scarface and Miami Vice.  I’ve got the lingo down.

One of the Mommies at her daughter’s school mentioned she needed cookies.  “Do you have any more?” she innocently asked Kelli.

“Maybe.”  Kelli was cagey.  “What kind do you want?”

“What kind do you have?” the Mommy innocently asked.

“What kind do you want?” Kelli asked again, giving nothing away.

“Thin Mints?” the Mommy suggested, tossing out everyone’s favorite.

“Nope.”  Kelli was quick to answer.  Her words clipped and unfriendly.  “I don’t have any of those.”

“Really.  How about Samoas?”  the woman mentioned another popular cookie.

“Na-huh.”  Kelli shook her head.  “None of those.  And no Tag-a-longs either.  Peanut butter has been real popular.”

The woman looked perplexed.  “I thought you were a cookie mom.”

“I am.  There’s Shortbread.”  Kelli was willing to part with the Shortbread ones.

Another Mom arrived on the scene who claimed to have multiple varieties in her Lexus minivan.  She was also uber-thin.  Certainly Kelli hated her on the spot.  But most importantly, her stash was safe.