Monday, January 9, 2012

"The Boy" Is Here

On Saturday afternoon, there was a knock at my door.  I opened it, hoping expecting to see some Girl Scouts smiling their sweet, little smiles that force me to order several boxes of Samoas completely and totally against my will.  Listen, Girl Scouts should do hostage negotiation instead of cookie sales.  It's impossible to say no to them.  Believe me, I've tried, you know, sort of.

Anyway, a ten-year-old boy was standing on my front porch WHO DIDN'T HAVE ANY COOKIES AT ALL.  Sheesh, somebody should teach this kid some manners.

"Hi.  Is Bailey home?"

"Uhmmm, Bailey?  Bailey who?  Sorry.  Never heard of her.  You must have the wrong house."

It caught me off guard.  I wasn't prepared.  My house was clean, I had makeup on and my Smith & Wesson was in the shop.  Where are those cupcakes?  I should at least try to scare him off with my poor baking skills.

See, when a boy comes to your house, you have a maternal duty to scare the crap out of him.  It's the same way with telling your kids that sitting too close to the television will make them blind or that Santa will come back and get that Wii if they don't start eating their vegetables.  It's just part of being a mom.

I had hoped to look crazy, disheveled and/or homicidal when a boy first knocked on my door asking for my daughter, but none of that happened.  Now he thinks that we are a normal family without a single dead body in the basement freezer.  Damn it.

So Bailey stepped outside and talked to the boy for ten solid minutes.  Yes, I know that he has a name.  And I will gladly call him that once he's standing more than 100-feet away from my daughter.

I didn't go outside with her because THEY DESERVED SOME PRIVACY, Y'ALL.  So I watched them through the shutters on the upstairs window instead.

Brian was pickin' up what I was puttin' down, because suddenly, our shrubs needed grooming.  Yes, I know that it's the dead of winter and those gardenias aren't going to grow an inch between now and March, but when "the boy" was at our house, there was a landscape emergency.   Trust me.  It had to be done.

A friend of mine, John Little, suggested that we try what clinical psychologists refer to as the "Bad Boys Technique."   The training video is posted below.

This video is rated R and for mature audiences only.  The thoughts expressed in this video belong solely to that of Bad Boys and do not represent the thoughts or opinions of Werdyab Blog.  

Oh, okay, who am I kidding?  Of course they do!  THIS IS MY DAUGHTER WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE.  All bets are off. 

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  1. Put a sign in your yard that reads: NO boys allowed, violators will be shot dead, fed to the dogs and pooped out randomly throughout the neighborhood.

  2. "Brian was pickin' up what I was puttin' down..." LOL Odds are pretty good that he was a self-starter that day. Just as they are that he will still be squeezing his colon long after you've made your accommodations with the inevitable. (The insides of a teenage boy's skull are such frightening places that even we don't care to look to closely once we've left it behind. Count yourself lucky that you'll never know, because your husband dearly wishes that he didn't.)

    1. Robt. Heinlein was of the opinion that every young lad should be sealed within a large wine barrel at the onset of puberty, there to remain for the duration. At which time, depending on his comportment, he would either be released from his prison or have the bung tamped down. I'll not say that he's wrong.