The Stupid, Stupid Boy
The boys have a friend from school, who shall remain nameless to protect his privacy. Let's just call him Fat Kid. Is that mean? Well, he's anonymous, so I don't care. And he's fat. Really fat. Fat Albert fat. With dreadlocks.
Fat Kid is the youngest kid in a family of teenagers. He's bossy, he's mean and he invites himself over to play with my kids periodically. He constantly tells my kids, "No, YoungestBoy. No, TwinBoyA!" if they deviate from his rules. For some reason, TwinBoyA always says, "okay" when Fat Kid asks if he can come over. I cannot understand why my boys would agree to play with Fat Kid, but they always do.
So, today, just after I put the baby to bed, the phone rings. It's Fat Kid. "Can I come over?" he asks my son. TwinBoyA asks me and I say, "When?" He asks Fat Kid and tells me "Two-fifty." I think, well, nap-time will almost be over, so that will be all right because I know they'll make noise, but not until the babies have already slept a good long while.
I agree.
At 1:15 p.m., I am informed that Fat Kid is on his way over. Uh, hello, Fat Kid? Can you tell time? Two-fifty is an hour later than one-fifty.
Now, at 2:30 p.m., what do I hear? That's right. My baby is crying. She normally sleeps until 3:00 p.m. at least, sometimes 3:30 p.m. And when she wakes up, she wakes up happy, not crying. I have repeatedly told Fat Kid to keep it down, to not talk so loudly.
Stupid Fat Kid.
Oh, and guess what Fat Kid wanted to come over and play? Playmobil people. Playmobil people are like Barbies for boys--all the little accessories and everything. I can't figure out exactly what they are doing, though. Fat Kid just keeps saying, "No! YoungestBoy, stop! Put that back! TwinboyA, okay, stop! Okay, it's going to look stupid. Stop, YoungestBoy. No!"
Now, looking on the positive side (how uncharacteristic of me), maybe the baby will go to bed a little early and I can finish grocery shopping before 9:30 p.m. tonight.
Time to get Miss Priss from her crib. And I haven't even finished my Diet Coke yet. I am annoyed.
Fat Kid is the youngest kid in a family of teenagers. He's bossy, he's mean and he invites himself over to play with my kids periodically. He constantly tells my kids, "No, YoungestBoy. No, TwinBoyA!" if they deviate from his rules. For some reason, TwinBoyA always says, "okay" when Fat Kid asks if he can come over. I cannot understand why my boys would agree to play with Fat Kid, but they always do.
So, today, just after I put the baby to bed, the phone rings. It's Fat Kid. "Can I come over?" he asks my son. TwinBoyA asks me and I say, "When?" He asks Fat Kid and tells me "Two-fifty." I think, well, nap-time will almost be over, so that will be all right because I know they'll make noise, but not until the babies have already slept a good long while.
I agree.
At 1:15 p.m., I am informed that Fat Kid is on his way over. Uh, hello, Fat Kid? Can you tell time? Two-fifty is an hour later than one-fifty.
Now, at 2:30 p.m., what do I hear? That's right. My baby is crying. She normally sleeps until 3:00 p.m. at least, sometimes 3:30 p.m. And when she wakes up, she wakes up happy, not crying. I have repeatedly told Fat Kid to keep it down, to not talk so loudly.
Stupid Fat Kid.
Oh, and guess what Fat Kid wanted to come over and play? Playmobil people. Playmobil people are like Barbies for boys--all the little accessories and everything. I can't figure out exactly what they are doing, though. Fat Kid just keeps saying, "No! YoungestBoy, stop! Put that back! TwinboyA, okay, stop! Okay, it's going to look stupid. Stop, YoungestBoy. No!"
Now, looking on the positive side (how uncharacteristic of me), maybe the baby will go to bed a little early and I can finish grocery shopping before 9:30 p.m. tonight.
Time to get Miss Priss from her crib. And I haven't even finished my Diet Coke yet. I am annoyed.
posted by Melodee at Tuesday, June 29, 2004
1 Comments:
Melodee...I wanted to think you were horrible for calling this boy "Fat Kid" but I was laughing too hard! Cheryl
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