Paint it Black

Sometimes I worry that I started this blog too late. The boys are 8 and nearly 7 and the craziest years are probably behind us. Sure, I have lots of old stories I can tell (poop in the jacuzzi, popcorn butter on The Husband’s face while he sleeps, blue paint covering the entire Walmart), but it seems like cheating to circle back and rehash ancient history. But what if they are past the point of doing ridiculous crap?

Alright, alright. Settle down, veteran parents that made it through the teen years. I can hear you laughing at me. And I know you’re right because this just happened last week:


which helped to remind me that there will be plenty of material forthcoming although it’s not always as funny when it involves actually criminal behavior. 

Yes, that is my mom’s neighbor’s shed. Not my shed. Not even my mom’s shed, but my mom’s neighbor’s shed. This happened while the boys were on Auntie’s watch. Here is the story, as I understand it:

They hatch a plan to do some spray painting. Like any well-meaning child, Boy Two asks Auntie for permission. He doesn’t get the answer he wants, but that’s easy to fix:

Boy Two (to Boy One): Yeah, she said it’s fine.

I’m just glad they only decorated the shed with messages of love rather than phallic symbols and cuss words. It could have been much worse. 

I got the call from Auntie at work. 

*crying* You won’t believe what your freaking kids did. *more crying* They freaking spray painted the neighbor’s shed.  *crying*

I hang up and call my mom to complain that Auntie let this happen. I know it’s not her fault my kids are unruly criminals, but it helps if you know Auntie. She’s 10 years younger than me. She’s smart (a sophomore in Purdue’s nursing program), beautiful, and always well put-together. She goes the extra mile to make sure her outfit, hair, and makeup are on point, which is what she was doing while this vandalism occurred. And while they dug up Mom’s backyard with their Power Wheels excavator. And while they shoved my cat down a vent in my house causing it to fall three stories and forcing The Husband to leave work to come home and dismantle the heating system to save its life. So yeah, I’m not saying it’s her fault because it’s not. I’m sure the same thing would have happened on my watch. All I’m saying is: I can’t wait until she has kids. 

Sure, I can watch them! No problem! I’ll be right over. No, you don’t need to bring them, I can come to your house. I’ll be right over.