Electro Boy (a.k.a. Mr. Middle School or Boy Three) is up(stairs), down(stairs), in and out, likely jumping on the beloved Circle of Fun with his baby brother, Little Schrock. Yesterday, the pair of ’em came in, dripping, having cleverly slipped the sprinkler in under the trampoline, their way of beating the searing summer heat. The fact that they looked happy (and cool) was not lost on me, the family’s Activities Director, when they presented all soggy like at my desk.
With everyone underfoot, a frequent topic of conversation begins like this: “What can we have for a snack?” If I had a dollar for every time they’ve asked this question, I could retire, richer than Croesus, on an island where well-muscled cabana boys bring beach ploppers their tropical drinks; virgin, of course, with a fun little pink umbrella. Which I don’t need, see, because I’ve got the well-muscled Mr. Schrock to bring me mine.
Anyway, a lot of things center around food. Like what’s for dinner. Who got into the chocolate cake. Whose half-eaten pint of Chief ice cream is on the second shelf, and important things like that.
Other conversations have covered things like fund raising; as in, “Our XBox Live ran out and I can’t play with my friends and I’m really, really letting them down by not getting on and how much can you contribute to my XBox fund?” And so forth.
Last night (don’t ask me how), the topic of tutus came up. Around here, you never know, but it may have had something to do with me requesting that Someone try at some point in the far-distant future to come up with a small, pink package; i.e., a baby girl. Then Someone Else may have said that he couldn’t see himself doing tea parties with a granddaughter while another Someone Else (alright, it was me) laughed and said, “Oh, yes, you would, and furthermore, you’d be center seat, front row, at her little ballet recitals.”
That may have been how it went. And then it was about there in the whole jumbled deal that the first Someone Else said, regarding the tutus, “Mine would have to be a threethree,” and we all cracked up because he’d never, not in a million years or for a million bucks, ever stick his leg in anything Spandex like that. Ever.
Goofy, I know, but that’s how it goes.
Now it’s your turn. Let’s have a conversation. What topics are coming up in your house and around your table this summer?