Yesterday was the last day of my children’s freedom, and incidentally the last day of my imprisonment. As I counted down the dwindling hours of winter break, I was also counting down the hours till my head was going to stop throbbing and my voice would sound human again (oppose to a hissing, barking, and squealing-female version of a prison guard type of a voice).
So, I decided to reward my boys with a lunch at Red Robin (mainly because I had a coupon) to celebrate their last day of vacation! Even though they didn’t seem to appreciate my goodwill and sarcasm about the whole thing, they still agreed to go. What a tough life! Poor little children being taken out to lunch after having endured two weeks of fancy shmancy activities, trips, restaurants and who could forget not one but eight nights of Hanukkah. Next year, I already told them that they will be taking a little trip to Skid Row for the holidays; and later I will re-wrap their already played and forgotten toys for Hanukkah.
After being seated along with the many other Moms who had the same exact idea, I tried making conversation in between Atari’s Breakout and NimbleBit’s Tiny Tower; yes they are over Angry Birds and Plants vs. Zombies or whatever the hell their names are. Let me tell you, it requires some serious mad skills to be able to carry on a conversation with your Mother while building a whole condominium at the same time, and don’t get me started on those pesty little people walking around needing something every ten minutes, the alarm on Tiny Tower is the most annoying thing I’ve ever heard in my life, right next to a child crying and whining at the table next to me while I’m trying to enjoy an ‘Adults Only’ dinner. Why is it that its perfectly alright for the child to throw a fit in a public place, but it is NOT alright for me to come over to it and smack it on the head? My theory is if the child’s parent isn’t going to do anything about it, that clearly means they want other adults to do something about their annoying child’s behavior. You with me on this? Good, moving on. Oh wait, one more thing before moving on… As my Father likes to say quite often, “When I was a little boy in Lithuania (FYI, we lived in Latvia, but that’s not the point) if a child ever talked or cried in public, any adult was allowed to come up and shut that bastard up! End of story.” Alright, so I added the last part from myself but you get the point here.
Somehow I managed to get my kids’ little eyes away from their iPods long enough to have a five-minute dialogue about our adventures in Florida back in the day. Specifically, my oldest wanted to know why I took him to a ‘HOOTERS’ restaurant in Orlando one day. His words: “Mom, I just don’t understand. I was only like 7 or 8 at the time! Why would you think it was appropriate for me to see girls in very short shorts and boobs everywhere serving me food? If I wanted to see that, I’d stay at home and look at you.” First of all let’s get something straight, I’ve never in my whole life worn short shorts or shorts of any kind. My idea of shorts are pants that come up to my calf, I believe they are called ‘Mom shorts’ a.k.a. Capris. Second of all, I have never until that day been to a Hooters restaurant, nor have I heard much about it. Sure I’ve heard the name, but didn’t know what it was about. Believe me, as soon as we walked in I realized it was not your typical place to eat. Maybe we stayed because I was curious, and maybe it was because we were both starving and the other closest restaurant was not close by. After explaining such to my twelve-year-old, he seemed pretty satisfied with the answer and immediately after went back to destroying aliens, or building a house for them, not quite sure which one. After a minute, he looked up and added this interesting fact: “It’s OK Mom, I am not mad at you. Turns out most of my friends have been to Hooters with their Dads anyway, so it wasn’t just me that was put through that torture. And to tell the truth, I like girls now so its OK. Let me know if you’d like to go there again.” Oh thanks son, make me feel like the worst parent ever, then reward me with that little announcement…
My six-year-old caught wind of ‘boob talk’ and decided to chime in, specifically wanting to know where there’s such a place with girls in short shorts and boobs everywhere, and more importantly why I’ve never taken HIM there? Oye, how can one brother be so different from the other? One is all about the rules and structure, and the other only wants to have a good time. Boy I sure hope the older one doesn’t find out about my new tattoos, there is a lecture I’d like to avoid. Last time it only lasted a week, who knows how long this one will take… I plan on keeping a shirt on whenever taking him to the pool, beach and anywhere else that requires a swimsuit. Stay tuned for that conversation, I am planning on recording it…
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