Going to Town
Hola Wild Boy friends and family! Welcome back to La Casa, a wee bit early this week. This week the boys had fall break from school. Without school, I had the opportunity to switch over my schedule for the week and managed to get today off, which should have been great. Unfortunately, I had to take my car in for service. I was bound and determined, though, to make the most of my day with the boys (I owed them a fun outing for Gavin's report card), and decided we could totally do it all.
I know, I know, you're thinking I'm a fool. The thing is, our car dealership takes FOREVER to do basic EVERYTHING. Like, drop the car off at 9, pick the car up at 6. So I knew there was time with a loaner car to do whatever we wanted. Our car dealership is also a little bit snooty. So I had to blackmail the Wild Boys a tiny bit - behave while I completed the ridiculously lengthy sign in process and got the loaner and THEN we could do fun stuff. Upon arrival, they were already snarky due to me telling them that "going to town" involves clothing that is neither stained nor able to stand of it's own volition from the filth it's caked in. They disagreed. I advised it was not up for discussion, and we went on about our day. We got to the dealership and they descended on the free snacks like a plague of locusts. Biscotti, cookies, granola bars...it was a blur of fists to faces that looked as if I'd scooped up homeless children off the streets that hadn't JUST eaten an hour ago and released them at some kind of holiday feast. My "service consultant" advised me that it might just take a teeny tiny extra minute or two since the computers were a bit slow today and I glanced nervously over my shoulder at the Wild Boys, inhaling treats by the handful. He clearly saw it as well, because everything was done and ready to go faster then I've ever managed it when it's just me there waiting. Suddenly, the addition of the Wild Boys was seeming like a real perk.
Gavin had decided that as his reward for his grades we needed to go to Monster Golf (black light miniature golf), but they didn't open until the afternoon, so I decided we'd use our free time and a previously purchased coupon to go to the trampoline place for a few hours. After all, the boys had done ok at the dealership but now had a giant sugar high to contend with - and they did. For two solid hours they did ridiculous amounts of cardio and every time I caught a glance of them it was a blur of flips and leaps and dodge ball related ball flinging. I was exhausted watching.
We made it out of the building first. I'm calling it a win.
On to mini-golf, where the boys were super good. And after, before we hit the road to go home, I thought to myself "why not stop in for dinner for the boys?" We were right next to the Old Spaghetti Factory, and they were THRILLED at the idea of eating somewhere fancy enough to not order at a counter. We talked about good manners. It was going smoothly, too. Sure, I had to remind Gabe that he didn't keep his bread on his napkin, especially when his napkin was on his lap, but that was an innocent enough mistake. And he was positively charming with the waiter, which was delightful. I thought we had it, and then the waiter brought dinner. Gabe had ordered noodles with cheese, and I misheard him when he commented on the plate as it was delivered to him. I could have sworn he said something about the noodles being too cheesy, and I commented about how he never thought ANYTHING was too cheesy. Gavin corrected me, pointing out that Gabe thinks the pizza at Strings is too cheesy, all while the waiter stood by trying to figure out if something needed to be fixed with the food, and Gabe announced loud enough so I wouldn't ask him to repeat himself again this time "No Gavin, it's not that the pizza there is too cheesy, it just gives me the poops."
Time froze. I froze. The waiter froze momentarily, but then choked on a snort laugh and hurried away. All the while, the boys had settled in to eating and had no idea anything was wrong whatsoever.
Clearly, we aren't ready for the Ritz. Baby steps, right? Anyhow, we are finally home, they are in bed and it's time for the celebratory "I survived" glass of wine. Until next time, Wild Boy friends, cheers! Oh, and watch out for that Strings pizza...
I know, I know, you're thinking I'm a fool. The thing is, our car dealership takes FOREVER to do basic EVERYTHING. Like, drop the car off at 9, pick the car up at 6. So I knew there was time with a loaner car to do whatever we wanted. Our car dealership is also a little bit snooty. So I had to blackmail the Wild Boys a tiny bit - behave while I completed the ridiculously lengthy sign in process and got the loaner and THEN we could do fun stuff. Upon arrival, they were already snarky due to me telling them that "going to town" involves clothing that is neither stained nor able to stand of it's own volition from the filth it's caked in. They disagreed. I advised it was not up for discussion, and we went on about our day. We got to the dealership and they descended on the free snacks like a plague of locusts. Biscotti, cookies, granola bars...it was a blur of fists to faces that looked as if I'd scooped up homeless children off the streets that hadn't JUST eaten an hour ago and released them at some kind of holiday feast. My "service consultant" advised me that it might just take a teeny tiny extra minute or two since the computers were a bit slow today and I glanced nervously over my shoulder at the Wild Boys, inhaling treats by the handful. He clearly saw it as well, because everything was done and ready to go faster then I've ever managed it when it's just me there waiting. Suddenly, the addition of the Wild Boys was seeming like a real perk.
Gavin had decided that as his reward for his grades we needed to go to Monster Golf (black light miniature golf), but they didn't open until the afternoon, so I decided we'd use our free time and a previously purchased coupon to go to the trampoline place for a few hours. After all, the boys had done ok at the dealership but now had a giant sugar high to contend with - and they did. For two solid hours they did ridiculous amounts of cardio and every time I caught a glance of them it was a blur of flips and leaps and dodge ball related ball flinging. I was exhausted watching.
And weirdly, when we finished bouncing the car dealership called. My car was done - in record time. Suddenly I KNEW the boys were lucky! So, we grabbed a quick lunch and drove back to trade out cars. And I thought that the boys, having to wait only long enough to exchange keys and sign a paper, and fresh on the heels of two hours of play they should be ok right?
Well, mostly right. While we waited for our car to be brought to the front Gavin suddenly became super anxious to leave. I attributed this to wanting to go to the mini-golf. Wrong. As soon as they brought our keys he took off out the door like a flash, and I caught up to him just in time to hear him clear the building, pause, and say to himself "aaaaahhhhhh. OK, not a loud one....but oh God, a stinky one!" and hustle toward the car.
We made it out of the building first. I'm calling it a win.
On to mini-golf, where the boys were super good. And after, before we hit the road to go home, I thought to myself "why not stop in for dinner for the boys?" We were right next to the Old Spaghetti Factory, and they were THRILLED at the idea of eating somewhere fancy enough to not order at a counter. We talked about good manners. It was going smoothly, too. Sure, I had to remind Gabe that he didn't keep his bread on his napkin, especially when his napkin was on his lap, but that was an innocent enough mistake. And he was positively charming with the waiter, which was delightful. I thought we had it, and then the waiter brought dinner. Gabe had ordered noodles with cheese, and I misheard him when he commented on the plate as it was delivered to him. I could have sworn he said something about the noodles being too cheesy, and I commented about how he never thought ANYTHING was too cheesy. Gavin corrected me, pointing out that Gabe thinks the pizza at Strings is too cheesy, all while the waiter stood by trying to figure out if something needed to be fixed with the food, and Gabe announced loud enough so I wouldn't ask him to repeat himself again this time "No Gavin, it's not that the pizza there is too cheesy, it just gives me the poops."
Time froze. I froze. The waiter froze momentarily, but then choked on a snort laugh and hurried away. All the while, the boys had settled in to eating and had no idea anything was wrong whatsoever.
Clearly, we aren't ready for the Ritz. Baby steps, right? Anyhow, we are finally home, they are in bed and it's time for the celebratory "I survived" glass of wine. Until next time, Wild Boy friends, cheers! Oh, and watch out for that Strings pizza...
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