In Which I Can’t Stop Laughing
That which every parent fears most happened to us today. We got walked in on.
I know, I know. Lock the bedroom door, I hear you say. But our bedroom door slides. It can’t be locked. We have always had a If the Door Is Closed Please Knock Policy, but we usually reminded everyone about said policy and the need for a serious problem (i.e. blood) as we started their DVD and scampered upstairs. Yeah, I know: excellent parenting.
Our former house had locking doors. And only once did someone knock “during.”
“Is there blood?” We began the screening process..
“Yes,” a little voice quavered. “My tooth came out . . .”
Okay, fair enough. Blood trumps nookie.
Today was a Saturday morning, and the children had gone out to the park. We shut the door and thought we were good to go, when, at a very lovely and inconvenient moment, the Spouse looked up to discover we were not alone.
I’ll spare you the details. Thankfully the activities were about as traditional and boring as possible. Legal in all 50 states. There were clothes. No food, battery-operated toys, French maid costumes, handcuffs, or animals.
Nevertheless, the discovery was startling to all. There was shouting. Pillows were thrown. Skittles just stood there, paralyzed and unable, at first, to move. Finally she fled.
We recovered our dignity. I went downstairs to ascertain exactly how scarred Skittles might be. Fairly scarred, as it turns out. She was inside her wardrobe.
I explained that we shouted because she startled us, reviewed The Policy, asked if she had any questions, and hugged her a lot.
Then we went in to see if Baboo was okay.
Baboo was lying on her bed, reading a book. I asked her if she heard the shouting.
“Yeah,” she said sagely. She put her book down. “I wondered what you were doing to make you so mad. Then I thought, ‘Ooooh, I know!’”
“So, what was it?” I pushed a little.
Baboo just picked up her book and grinned.
The Spouse relayed a story a college roommate told about a similar experience. The roommate said of his father, a respected judge, “I’d never seen him move so fast.” The Spouse wonders if he meant before the judge realized he had company or after.
So the good news is that they have parents who still do it. And maybe now they have more respect for a closed door.
Let me close with the following bit from That 70s Show:
Laurie Forman: Oh, for God's sake! Eric saw you guys doing it!
Kitty Forman: Oh, honey. You saw your father and I having inter...
Eric: [shocked] Mom!
Kitty Forman: Red, say something to the boy.
Red Forman: It's more fun than it looks.
That which every parent fears most happened to us today. We got walked in on.
I know, I know. Lock the bedroom door, I hear you say. But our bedroom door slides. It can’t be locked. We have always had a If the Door Is Closed Please Knock Policy, but we usually reminded everyone about said policy and the need for a serious problem (i.e. blood) as we started their DVD and scampered upstairs. Yeah, I know: excellent parenting.
Our former house had locking doors. And only once did someone knock “during.”
“Is there blood?” We began the screening process..
“Yes,” a little voice quavered. “My tooth came out . . .”
Okay, fair enough. Blood trumps nookie.
Today was a Saturday morning, and the children had gone out to the park. We shut the door and thought we were good to go, when, at a very lovely and inconvenient moment, the Spouse looked up to discover we were not alone.
I’ll spare you the details. Thankfully the activities were about as traditional and boring as possible. Legal in all 50 states. There were clothes. No food, battery-operated toys, French maid costumes, handcuffs, or animals.
Nevertheless, the discovery was startling to all. There was shouting. Pillows were thrown. Skittles just stood there, paralyzed and unable, at first, to move. Finally she fled.
We recovered our dignity. I went downstairs to ascertain exactly how scarred Skittles might be. Fairly scarred, as it turns out. She was inside her wardrobe.
I explained that we shouted because she startled us, reviewed The Policy, asked if she had any questions, and hugged her a lot.
Then we went in to see if Baboo was okay.
Baboo was lying on her bed, reading a book. I asked her if she heard the shouting.
“Yeah,” she said sagely. She put her book down. “I wondered what you were doing to make you so mad. Then I thought, ‘Ooooh, I know!’”
“So, what was it?” I pushed a little.
Baboo just picked up her book and grinned.
The Spouse relayed a story a college roommate told about a similar experience. The roommate said of his father, a respected judge, “I’d never seen him move so fast.” The Spouse wonders if he meant before the judge realized he had company or after.
So the good news is that they have parents who still do it. And maybe now they have more respect for a closed door.
Let me close with the following bit from That 70s Show:
Laurie Forman: Oh, for God's sake! Eric saw you guys doing it!
Kitty Forman: Oh, honey. You saw your father and I having inter...
Eric: [shocked] Mom!
Kitty Forman: Red, say something to the boy.
Red Forman: It's more fun than it looks.
posted by The Expatresse at 8:49 AM
3 Comments:
Thanks for making me laugh again and again. I'm addicted to your writing now :-)
just gorgeous, well done
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