Dragonfly
Last night Mr. Clean and I got all spiffied, prettied, and hair-sprayed up and went to our office Christmas Party (plus a Pre-get-smashed-before-the-office-Christmas-party-Party). We left Shaggy in charge of Doodlebug.

If you didn't hear the dum-de-dum-dum death march music at that last sentence, you either don't have children or have never interacted with them. It's okay. I'll explain.

Phone Call #1 (less than a mile down the road from home)
Doodlebug: Mooooooooom! What can I have for dinner? I don't know what to eat!
Me: We talked about that before we left home. There's Beef Stew, or you can have a sandwich, or you can make your brother cook scrambled eggs.
Doodle (disappointed): Okaaaaaay.
Me: Now, look. I don't want to get another phone call tonight unless someone is bleeding or dying or the house is burning down.
Doodle: You looked so beautiful tonight, Mom.
Me: I love you too, Doodlebug. Bleeding. Or. Dying. I mean it.

The disappointment? Apparently, he had it in his head I'd feel so bad for leaving him, I'd run off to McD's and bring him something back and then go on to the parties. Yeah. Right.

Phone Call #2 (in the middle of dinner, around 8:30pm)
Doodle (in tears): Moooom... *sniff-sniff-bawling* ..Shaggy... *unrecognizable set of words* ..Christmas tree lights... *more bawling* ..and I said, *unrecognizable words,* ..and... *bawling* ..he won't do it.
Me: Let me talk to Shaggy
Shaggy (totally miffed): What?
Me: Why did you turn off the Christmas tree lights?
Shaggy: Because we're watching a movie and I can't see with them on.
Me: Fine, turn them back on when the movie is over. Put Doodlebug back on.
Doodle: *sniff-sniff-hiccup* ..Yes, Mom?
Me: The lights stay off until the movie is over. Got it? And, seriously, do not call me again unless someone is writhing in pain on the floor.
Doodle: Okay.

Phone Call #3 (9:15pm)
Shaggy: You need to have a talk with your other kid.
Me: Why? What's going on now? This is completely ridiculous that y'all keep calling me. I'm. At. A. Party. Here.
Shaggy: Well I thought you'd like to know he just pointed a bow and arrow at me and said he'd shoot me if...
Me: He WHAT?
Shaggy: Said he'd shoot me with a bow and arrow.
Me: Put him on the phone NOW.
Doodle (hysterical tears): I'm Sooooorrrrrrryyyyy!
Me: Why are you threatening to shoot your brother with an arrow?
(at this point our entire table was trying not to pee themselves laughing)
Doodle: He said I couldn't have dessert.
Me: So because he wouldn't give you dessert, you thought the appropriate action was to hunt him down like a deer? Were you going to eat HIM for dessert?
Doodle: No. Mom. You're not listening. He said I couldn't have dessert! (crying starts up again in earnest)
Me: It's after 9pm. He's right.
Doodle: But I never get dessert! It's not too late! I'll just have something little.
Me: Well I would have said yes had you not threatened to murder your brother. Sorry squirt. You dug your own hole on this one.
Doodle: But I'm sorrrrrryyyy. I didn't mean to do it!
Me: Put your brother back on the phone.
Doodle: But I'm sooorrrryyyy!
Shaggy: Are you coming home now? I'm scared for my life.
Me: Are you kidding me? I need a lot more alcohol before I come back to that crazy house. Put the bow and arrows* in my bedroom. Call your Grandpa if you need backup. Bye!

Phone Call #4 (10:00pm)
Doodle: Mom, I swear it's an emergency.
Me: Why? What happened? Did you shoot your brother? Oh my God, if you actually shot him with an arrow...
(the table is all leaning forward to hear the latest development in our plight)
Doodle: No, Mom. I didn't! But you know the catfish?
Me: What?
Doodle: Not the shiny colorful one but the fat one, the one who's always hiding? He's on his side and he won't move!
Me (trying to sound sympathetic to his plight): Well, sweetie, he might be dead. Usually when they're laying on their side... is he at the top?
Doodle: No! He's not dead! But I think he's Stuck!
Me: How is he stuck?
Doodle: I think he's stuck under the skull. Mom! You have to save him! He's breathing really hard.
Me: Well stick your arm down in there and Un-Stick! The Fish! for Dog's sake!
(random cheer at the table from someone who was betting I was talking about a fish)

We didn't get any further phone calls for an hour and a half. Of course, by that time, I was twitchy and imagining unimaginable amounts of mayhem and blood and gore all over my house. So we left. And I had to drive home because while I was on the phone, Mr. Clean proceeded to wipe out the bar's stock of bourbon and whiskey.

At least it was a good party while it lasted. Lots of drunken people, as with any office party held in a posh hotel with free beer and wine. Two pukers, LOTS of weeble-wobblers wandering about, a few lecherous grabs of other people's significant other's asses (thankfully not resulting in anything other than laughter)(and no, I was not grabbing the asses!), and a handful of awesome door prizes I Did. Not. Win.

Oh, and no blood or gore when I got home. Though I did almost pee my pants while waiting for Mr. Clean - the giggling drunk - to find our house keys so I could get inside.

*Disclaimer: The bow is a little hand-made one we got at the Renaissance Festival and while the arrows are somewhat tipped, it has maybe 10 lbs. of pull. Meaning - the danger was relatively low. The consequences, however, were significantly higher because you do not aim an arrow at your brother over missed dessert!
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2 Responses
  1. BabySis Says:

    OMG! I am so glad I was not asked to babysit.. hehhe.. even though if I were there you wouldn't get any phone calls, but how funny.. lol


  2. dragonfly Says:

    Yeah, it was a real laugh riot.