Last night I came home from a meeting to find a forlorn looking Sophie wrapped up in a quilt with many more hours of homework ahead of her. She was tired, overwhelmed, and on the verge of tears. When that happens to one of my girls, my strategy is this: shock her out of it with gravely unrefined behavior.
So I was all: Do you want me to go to the gas station and get you a gigantic Slurpee?
She stared at me, mouth ajar. Already my plan was working.
I'm generally not someone who purchases gigantic Slurpees, dear reader. I have this half-baked notion they're against my religion, that they're against anyone's religion.
So, yes. Sophie forgot about her troubles in an instant, stunned by the prospect she was on the verge of witnessing an apostasy.
Oh, but I wasn't done. I was nowhere NEAR done.
"What else do you want?," I continued, showing the whites of my eyes, "Hot Cheetos?"
Hot Cheetos?? Sophie shook her head like she'd sustained a hearing loss. Surely those words did not just come out of her mother's mouth.
"You would not do that for me," she whispered.
"Oh, wouldn't I? Wouldn't I?? Watch this!," I cried, picking up my keys and marching back out the door.
You do not call my bluff at 10:00 p.m. when I've invoked the offer of a Slurpee and Hot Cheetos, dear reader. Because if I've said those words, you should know I've already crossed a line. I'm at the point of no return.
I pulled into the nearest gas station and swarmed over that place like a plague of locusts. I bought a Slurpee, Hot Cheetos, Twix, Sprees, and two packs of sugarless gum. I hauled my loot to the counter and laid it out before the attendant who looked at me and said, "Looks like someone's loading up tonight!"
Whereupon I immediately began gesticulating and over-proclaiming my innocence, that the purchase wasn't for me but for my daughter who was pulling an all-nighter.
Whereupon he exclaimed: Wow. You're a great mom.
And for two seconds I took him at his word, like it was a genuine compliment.
But then I realized, no. That was sarcasm.
When you think about it, though, it would have been funny either way. So I laughed my head off.
Keeping with the sugar trend, Izzy came home from school today with this box of donuts. It seems Krispy Kreme (and yes, it makes my eye twitch to spell it with k's) is offering students a free donut for every A they receive on their report cards.
Maybe they should try spelling their name properly if they're such proponents of good education.
Caroline has started up with volleyball again. Look for her penchant for the pleasant society of the Bennet sisters to be replaced with a brazen lust for blood.
And I changed my hair color from what Caroline called "black" to this.
The funny thing is, no one really noticed. At least, not in the way I imagined they'd notice. I was expecting friends' jaws to drop. I was expecting Caroline to stop and stare. I was expecting to rob a bank and escape, unidentified.
But when no jaws dropped and Caroline hardly raised an eyebrow, I cancelled the rest of my expectations.
Perhaps a life on the lam was too much to hope for, anyway.