Today J was up at five in the morning. This shouldn’t surprise anyone with school-age children because we all know that, while on any day when school is in session children must be pried from their beds, on a day when parents can take their time dragging their fannies out of bed children will be up as early as possible. Quite frankly, I’m surprised J waited until 5 a.m. to wake up singing like an understudy who’s time in the spotlight had finally arrived.
The morning was spent quite pleasantly sitting in the frozen tundra that is the basement-level family room. J watched selected scenes from Hercules (particularly those in which Hades, voiced by James Woods, has a major emotional meltdown on account of Hercules’ successful efforts at beating all his monsters) and I sat at the computer helping The Great Gonzo do his first taxes EVER. Much relief was felt when the whole tax thing turned out well because, quite honestly, our patience was being slowly frayed by the repetitious nature of Hades’ tantrums. No sooner had we completed our mission for the morning than we escaped to the upper levels of our residence.
Hercules isn’t as bad as the Teletubbies. J has one Teletubbies DVD that we keep moving around so he can’t find it. I know this is mean of us, but it’s a matter of self preservation. OK…we should be made of sterner stuff, but we’re not. I admit this quite freely. It was his money and he purchased this DVD…what…when he was ten? Nine? J then proceeded to saturate us with one particular scene in which a little girl says hello! hello! hello! hello! hello! hello! until we all felt nauseous, irritated and nearly homicidal. Not towards J, of course…towards the television set. If truth must be told, I have stopped baseball bats and golf clubs from crashing repeatedly against said disc. I’ve been on the brink of taking a hammer to it from time to time. We know we are infringing on his right to view this thing, but it’s not like he truly misses it…if he happens to find it in the DVD binder we’ve put it in at any given time, sure, he gets a hold of it and we all pass the bottle of Tylenol around. Otherwise, we make a concerted effort to prevent this DVD from being found…especially in winter when escaping out of doors is not a viable option.
Because repetition is J’s most powerful weapon and my Achilles’ heel, today he has taken advantage of my foot reaching the lower level of our humble abode to spring into action. I have heard the word POPCORN issued with the same frequency, speed and insistence as can be expected from a machine gun. If the word was physically expressed as projectiles, I’d be wearing a helmet, a bullet-proof vest and I’d be crawling up and down the stairs. I know he wants the basement to himself, but here’s where the washer and dryer are, and here is where I peek in to make sure he hasn’t re-arranged furniture or gone shopping on Amazon.
So I am typing this as fast as I can and inserting the word NO between all the POPCORN he’s sending my way. No, he’s not starving to death…he just resents the fact that I make him hungry with my presence or that I am invading what he considers to be his recently-conquered territory. If I’m not around, he won’t ask for anything…he might even help himself IF he can locate the popcorn (mom’s not dumb, people…she’s got ways to conceal the goods he seeks.)
I am going back to the safety and relative quiet of cleaning my house. I am going to hide in the kitchen and hope that four-thirty rolls around sooner rather than later so I can send him to get dressed and out the door we go. I have nothing against vacations and holidays, but I really wish these weren’t coming so quickly in the heels one of the other…next Friday…oh, Lord, have mercy…we get to be home together again.
I see a trip to the garden center in my very near future…very near…so near…
For now, I’m going to hide in the cabinets…sorry…I’m going to re-organize the cabinets…each and every single one of them. One cabinet at a time. Ever so slowly. Alphabetically.