Monday, March 26, 2012

Monday's Meatloaf - Cover Two and the Fart Girl

Saturday evening the wife and I felt like two lost defensive backs in a Willie Martinez secondary. You that Arkansas game in 2009, where there seemed to be two sets of silver britches and about 11 hogs?

The youngest turned eight Saturday and four of her classmates came over for what we thought was going to be a slumber party. Turned out they were just there to wreck the house and scream. A lot. 
Who has two thumbs and a can of Lysol?

Just like a dangerous squad of receivers these kids came with their own proficiencies and skill sets. For instance we had The Farter, an obvious deep threat that could run all day...and night. And she always seemed to leave a cloud in her trail. Then there was The Calm One, she's fairly easy to control but can burn you with the subtle crossing route when you're not looking.

As dangerous as both of those are there's a flat out baller on the sideline waiting in the wings for a chance. Some of you parents know the threat I'm about to mention. It's the Malcolm Mitchell of slumber partyers. Able to defend and offend...that's right, it's The Double Threat. Your own kid. Your flesh and blood. You think you know them and then suddenly you're getting a glimpse of what they're like around these other hooligans. At first there's just a hint of chaos in their laughter that is both unrecognizable and eerily familiar. Weird. You quickly realize that there's trouble brewing in her beautiful little brown eyes  The Double Threat may or may not show her hand early on, but when the evening is in the balance and you least expect out.

And if you spend too much time trailing The Farter with a can of Febreze, The Double Threat shakes loose and then it's game over.

Today's Ingredients

Like Vance Cuff: great speed, but not
enough coverage skills
In the end Mrs. Bernie and I fell back on experience and were able to contain with a prevent defense that was surprisingly and appropriately aggressive. After all this wasn't our first rodeo. Of course, there's always some differences in sleeping comforts...teddy bears...who still sucks their thumb...who only wears pajama bottoms. Maybe we couldn't control the flatulence from The Farter, but the wife could sure as hell tell her she would most certainly be taken home if she jumped on furniture. And nothing was thoroughly damaged by misuse or overuse. Everyone stayed moderately civil despite a complete and utter lack of table manners and there was next to no drama, aka intrapersonal conflict/strife. And we even kept The Double Threat in check as evidenced by this breakfast table exchange:
(Bernie furiously passing out pancakes so we can shove the slumberers out the door) 
The Farter's twin sister: These pancakes are burnt!
Bernie: They're not burnt, they're golden brown and the chocolate chips are deliciously melted.
The Double Threat: (pointedly at her classmate) Don't argue with him. Trust me.

So all in all it could've been much worse. Our over stretched WilMart zone defense managed to control the little hellions and get five hours sleep before the cutting of the cheese and more screaming commenced afresh in the pre-dawn hours. Like beautiful little birds, stretching their cute little wings as the sun crests the subdivision's rooftops and elm trees...then SCREECHING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS FOR FOUR MORE HOURS UNTIL THEIR MOMS RELUCTANTLY KNOCK ON THE DOOR.

Yes, the slumber party is a cheap and economical way to have a birthday. No room rental or liability waivers. You just shove some pizza down their gullets and rent a couple movies that they never watch. But I'll pay three times the charge at Monkey Joe's next time, observe them for a couple hours and then send them home. The house will smell better and the dog won't look at me as if to say "WTF were you thinking?"

Here's your fork Reader. Have a great Monday!