BRRRRRRRRRAAAAAWWWWWWWW!!!!
I can see that our neighbors, the Fireman and the Coffee Lady, plus their various offspring, are going to figure prominently in my journal this summer.
They are the parents of Mr. "Are-Your-Boobs-Real" Brandon.
Evidently, two of their sprogs are having a birthday, and the party is today. Granted, we were getting up early ANYWAY because the Impossible Son has a soccer game today, but being awakened at 7 am on a SATURDAY by something that sounds like a cross between a chainsaw, a jackhammer, and the largest hairdryer in the world, is not something guaranteed to put Auntie in a sweet mood.
Hello Bear.
Hello Snarly, Grumpy, I'm-Gonna-Rip-Your-Head-Off Bear.
Oh yeah, THAT'S a good attitude for me to have around a bunch of 4-6 year olds and their parents.
Add to that, their rabbit died yesterday. Not that I'm surprised. Floppy Davis (Mr. Rabbit's name) was not sheltered properly, as we discovered when the Fireman and his family went to Disney World for a week. The Impossible Daughter was taking care of him, and the Husbandly One and I kept our fingers crossed that Floppy Davis would not expire on our watch. So when all the racket started this morning, THO looked at me and said, "Perhaps they are digging a REALLY DEEP HOLE to bury the rabbit."
They have six kids. SIX! Not that this is a problem, but... they're homeschooling their kids, and I'm sort of puzzled, because both parents work. And I home-schooled Miss Priss, so... I know what's involved. I wonder just how good of an education they're getting, because I swear the kids come over every couple of days at around 11 and ask if my kids can come to play. I stare at them and say, "They're not home."
"Really?" They always peer past me doubtfully into the house, like I'm hiding them or something. "Where are they?"
And while at first I treated this with a sense of humor, now I sort of grit my teeth and say, "They're at SCHOOL. Every day during the week, they're at SCHOOL. You won't see them until after three o'clock. And they won't be coming out until after 4:30, because they have HOMEWORK."
I can understand the little ones not remembering but the older kids are old enough to remember such things, and it drives me NUTS. Not to mention, I'm getting a little tired of Brandon and his confessional diarrhea, or do I mean his thing about thinking something and just blurting it right out without any sort of mental censor on it? "You should wear dresses more often, Mrs. J. because if you did, your husband would think you were HOT, and if he thinks you're HOT, maybe he'd be more interested in you, and you'd have more BABIES! Because when husbands think their wives are HOT, the wives have BABIES!"
Um. Yeah. Oooooookaaaaaay.
"You're kinda pretty, except you don't wear any makeup, and women aren't really pretty unless they wear makeup, so I guess you're not really all that pretty, but you kinda are. I mean, you got long, black eyelashes, and I like black eyelashes, are you wearing mascara? No, you can't be, because you'd have mascara all over your face, because it's hot today. And you never do your hair. It's still too short. You'd be really pretty with long hair and makeup, and why is your face all red? You okay, Mrs. J? You look like you're going to pop or something..."
This is going to be a LOOOOOOONG summer!
They are the parents of Mr. "Are-Your-Boobs-Real" Brandon.
Evidently, two of their sprogs are having a birthday, and the party is today. Granted, we were getting up early ANYWAY because the Impossible Son has a soccer game today, but being awakened at 7 am on a SATURDAY by something that sounds like a cross between a chainsaw, a jackhammer, and the largest hairdryer in the world, is not something guaranteed to put Auntie in a sweet mood.
Hello Bear.
Hello Snarly, Grumpy, I'm-Gonna-Rip-Your-Head-Off Bear.
Oh yeah, THAT'S a good attitude for me to have around a bunch of 4-6 year olds and their parents.
Add to that, their rabbit died yesterday. Not that I'm surprised. Floppy Davis (Mr. Rabbit's name) was not sheltered properly, as we discovered when the Fireman and his family went to Disney World for a week. The Impossible Daughter was taking care of him, and the Husbandly One and I kept our fingers crossed that Floppy Davis would not expire on our watch. So when all the racket started this morning, THO looked at me and said, "Perhaps they are digging a REALLY DEEP HOLE to bury the rabbit."
They have six kids. SIX! Not that this is a problem, but... they're homeschooling their kids, and I'm sort of puzzled, because both parents work. And I home-schooled Miss Priss, so... I know what's involved. I wonder just how good of an education they're getting, because I swear the kids come over every couple of days at around 11 and ask if my kids can come to play. I stare at them and say, "They're not home."
"Really?" They always peer past me doubtfully into the house, like I'm hiding them or something. "Where are they?"
And while at first I treated this with a sense of humor, now I sort of grit my teeth and say, "They're at SCHOOL. Every day during the week, they're at SCHOOL. You won't see them until after three o'clock. And they won't be coming out until after 4:30, because they have HOMEWORK."
I can understand the little ones not remembering but the older kids are old enough to remember such things, and it drives me NUTS. Not to mention, I'm getting a little tired of Brandon and his confessional diarrhea, or do I mean his thing about thinking something and just blurting it right out without any sort of mental censor on it? "You should wear dresses more often, Mrs. J. because if you did, your husband would think you were HOT, and if he thinks you're HOT, maybe he'd be more interested in you, and you'd have more BABIES! Because when husbands think their wives are HOT, the wives have BABIES!"
Um. Yeah. Oooooookaaaaaay.
"You're kinda pretty, except you don't wear any makeup, and women aren't really pretty unless they wear makeup, so I guess you're not really all that pretty, but you kinda are. I mean, you got long, black eyelashes, and I like black eyelashes, are you wearing mascara? No, you can't be, because you'd have mascara all over your face, because it's hot today. And you never do your hair. It's still too short. You'd be really pretty with long hair and makeup, and why is your face all red? You okay, Mrs. J? You look like you're going to pop or something..."
This is going to be a LOOOOOOONG summer!