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  The NukeBoys had been begging since August for a sleep over of Greek Navy proportions. They both stated that having three guests EACH would make for a memorable event. “It’ll be a blast!” they said. Yeah, so are IED’s.
We convinced them that three guests each was too many and they reluctantly agreed to two. Each time the momentous occasion got close on the calendar, something would come up to delay it. Finally, yesterday, we agreed that tonight would be the best night to have it since they were out of school. NukeMom was all for it because she knew she could beat a hasty retreat upstairs and leave the management to me since she had to work the next day. Her idea and she bails on her Wingman.
I thought I would lessen my need for hard liquor by having the guests--heretofore referred to as “Satan’s Spawn”, or SS--arrive at 7pm. This seemed to be a brilliant testimony of my strategic thinking until NukeMom arrived home at 6:45pm with two 2 liter bottles of soda.
“Why don’t we just give them 7 lb sugar cubes and a stack of Hustler’s?” I asked.
The three bowls of leftover Halloween candy (aggregate weight of 15 1/2 lbs) sent a shiver down my spine. I quickly relocated the Reese’s cups (to my sock drawer) and arranged the Whoppers and 3 Musketeer’s bars on top as invitingly as I could. It didn’t shout Eat this crap first, but the message was clear: dig for my Snickers and we’re going to have issues.
 With the Reese’s cups safely stowed away, I ventured outside to move the vehicles away from the basketball court. Surely 4 hours of basketball would counteract the effects of the sugar coma in my kitchen, right?
Wrong.
The outdoor portion of the event consisted of 10 minutes of basketball and 45 minutes of hit the little brother (or the dogs) in the face with the dodge ball. The dodge ball portion was moved to the backyard. Having not been informed of the change of venue, the Beagle muffins were plentiful. At least they were, until they left the yard to live out their existence on the soles of 6 pairs of sneakers.
I was able to cut the boys off at the pass with an “Oh no you don’t!” at the backdoor, followed by a teachable moment of how to do the Electric Slide in tall grass. Tomorrow morning we’ll learn the Run-the-Twig-Through-the-Groove maneuver. The class is already full; syllabuses were passed out this evening. I expect Buddy and Penny (The Beagle Bombardiers) to come out from under the deck any day now.
Once inside the festivities moved upstairs for an Xbox 360 marathon that lasted 42 seconds before the first conflict occurred. Six kids, two controllers. Do the math.
They were barred from asking the next door neighbor if they could borrow two of his controllers as they had just returned them last week. The problem was that they borrowed them the last time they had a sleep over in late May. I explained to them that forgetfulness does not equal ownership, unless it’s a really killer CD. Or concert tickets.
Splitting into teams worked for a while, and then I had to relocate 2/5th’s of the brigade downstairs. They enjoyed TV, Jenga, Spy Gear and getting caught with a pocketful of chocolate on the couch.
“Do you eat chocolate on the couch at your house?” I asked.
The look of befuddlement told me all I needed to know. It’s now 2:36am and three of them are down for the count. If I hear one more candy wrapper, I’m waking every one of them up at 6:30 to do yard work.
We’ll start with the Beagle muffins. |
