Cassie and I played the “take a penny/leave a penny” game yesterday with the kids. She and Erika took Katie, and Jack and I took Alec and that made for two pairs of very happy kids at each house. We moms were so thrilled to have a new kid at home, and so full of plans to keep them entertained, that within 15 minutes we ran into each other at Blockbuster. Yes, Cassie and I are both of the “games and/or movies ought to keep these rugrats out of my hair for the night” school of thought. Hey, it’s kept us sane(ish) for this long…
We’ve done this kid exchange many times now—since our kids are the same gender and age and get along well, we’d be stupid not to—and over the years we’ve debated who gets the worse end of the deal. Sometimes the girls are more trouble; sometimes the boys. And nowadays it’s not so much that they’re trouble as they’re completely, totally nut-job wacko .
For instance, on the way into Blockbuster, Alec suggested they walk like E.T. This is not a pretty look for a kid. Hell, it wasn’t a pretty look for E.T. And since they kept turning around to see my reaction, there was no way I could pretend they weren’t with me, so there I marched, behind two little freaks, into the video store. Once inside, the E.T. walk continued, and on top of that, they added a thorough discussion of every Wii game in the store, which made them sound like Vulcan ear-wearing mini-nerds. I stood off to the side and pretended not to know them. As we were eventually the only people in the store, I was probably unsuccessful.
On the way home, the boys noticed the fireworks stands that have popped up along Sunnyside. Their conversation made me laugh:
Jack: I like burning ants with the sparkling things.
Jack: Yeah, those stick things. You put ‘em right on the ants.
Alec: It’s fun because the ants get on fire.
(Cassie, I do believe this is how a serial killer gets his start.)
When we got home, they eagerly opened their rental, only to find the guy had given us a PS3 game instead of the Wii disc. Back we went. The boys were really worked up by now, and it was constant chatter the whole way:
Alec: Hey! That’s where my grandma lives! Wait, that’s the dentist.
Jack: Mom, did you hear that? Alec thinks his dentist is his grandma.
Alec: Wait, no. My grandma lives there.
Jack: Your grandma lives in the gas station bathroom? That’s stinky.
[Cue ten solid minutes of laughter for the dumbest joke ever. At least it made them forget to do that creepy E.T. walk.]
This morning I went downstairs and found Jack and Alec playing the game again (still?). The Oreos were gone and the breakfast bars were unopened. I tried for a few somewhat-healthy snacks, I did! As I waited for my coffee to brew, I listened to their game convo:
Jack: We need to buy a ray shield protector for the base so the AT-AT can’t destroy our landing station.
Alec: Let’s get a speeder bike first! And a launcher. THIS IS GONNA BE AWESOME! We need cookies.
Gah. These are a pair of 9-year-olds who are well on their way to being Cheetos-addicted, convention-attending, living-in-our-basements-when-they’re-40, stormtrooper costume-wearing virgins. Dina, in case you’re laughing your ass off at Cassie’s and my futures, you’re not exactly off the hook—Jack has accidentally called Alec “Blaine” several times. I think that must mean something.
Cassie, next time I want the girls. And let’s make it soon, before they get all weird.