So last night was "Spirit Night" at Chick Fil A for Reilly the Red's school.
All that means is a bunch of elementary aged, screaming kids (mostly girls), running around Chick Fil A, while their school ALLEGEDLY gets a cut of every check between the hours of 530 and 7pm.
Well, she has asked us in the past, and we've always had GREAT excuses like, "No." Or, "Ummmmm, No." And my personal favorite, "I'm fine with it, Reilly, but Daddy says, NO."
This time, she gave us plenty of advanced warning, her behavior has been super superior, she and I have been getting along fabulously, she got straight A's on her report card, she is practicing the piano regularly and actually starting to sound like she's playing the piano, she still practices weekly and plays monthly in the handchimes choir, she is in second grade, but is reading on a post-fifth grade level, she gets harder work and homework than anyone else in her class, my gosh we have thrown her fastball after curve after fastball after breaking ball, and she continues to come back for more.
So once I found a coupon for Chick Fil A, I got on board with her plea. I convinced a reluctant Billy Two Swords to go. He tried to back out one time. But he heard my convincing arguments, and got on board.
Reilly the Red was ecstatic. You would have thought we gave her five thousand dollars and set her free in the mall for four hours. That's how excited she was.
So we all got our shoes on and headed out to pick up the Captain at his school on the way to Chick Fil A.
And now, it comes back to being a Captain Jake Sparrow story.
WHY does it ALWAYS have to come back to the Captain? This isn't the Captain's blog for crying out loud! This is MY freaking blog! Go get your own blog, Captain "P starts with Piano!" Sparrow!
The Captain has a new teacher. I have yet to meet the pleasure of her acquaintance, where I beg her not to call the police on my son when he throws a chair at her, because he really isn't throwing a chair at her, she most likely just got in the way of his throwing of a chair, as he was probably testing velocity and compound molecules and the rate at which speed affects the gravitational result of the landing spot of the chair.
Oh dear God. I am delirious, delusional, and deranged. Please, someone, please Baker Act me. PLEASE!
Upon picking up the Sparrow, he disclosed that he had THREE ! dots at school today.
On the very first day with the new teacher?
Who had already been broken in yesterday without his attendance?
Who came so highly recommended that her credentials read like the Holy Grail?
The MOST HIGH of all dots?
Like, as in, you can never get FOUR dots, cause there are only THREE?
What the HELL?
I was outraged at first.
Then I put my psycho hat back on and determined that today's rebellion resulted from a sea of change for the Sparrow.
The movie Open Season 3 doesn't exist yet, and may not, so NO, I cannot get it from Blockbuster.
Yes, he's been through quite a bit of trauma in the past month and a half.
Two Swords is fuming, but is remaining quiet on this topic.
I work it out and realize the Sparrow was punished enough if he made it all the way to THREE dots, and I do not believe in punishing a child twice for the same crime. Adults, absolutely. Some of them should be fried even after they are dead, but I digress.......
We make it to Chick Fil A.
I said the kids could play FIRST and eat SECOND. Two Swords disagreed, but by the time he shook his head NO, they were already on the top of the top of the top of the tunnel.
Interestingly enough, Two Swords and I had never been to this Chick Fil A together with the kids. It has either been me and the kids, or him and the kids, never the four of us.
So I guess he really IS meaner than me, if he makes them eat BEFORE they play.
Anyhoo, things were going fine, that is until the Sparrow wants to take his socks off.
Now everyone in the world knows that you have to keep your socks ON in those places.
And EVERY kid in the world knows it too.
So he comes to the table where Two Swords and I are enjoying our dinner together sans rugrats, even though it is UNBELIEVABLY loud inside, and I have casually noticed that we are sitting cattycorner from Reilly's Principal and Vice-Principal!
Now, they both now me, as I am a registered volunteer at the school, and I am there every single Monday from 8 to 11, and although the school has 800 students, it really can be an intimate environment where everybody knows your name.
I had already exchanged pleasantries with the Vice-Principal when I noticed the Principal sitting with him.
And that's when Jake turned into a screaming banshee.
It started with the socks which we insisted he put back on.
He upped the consequence ante with the loud jumping up and down arms flailing and smacking his chest like a gangster rapper.
A few heads turn our way from the principle Principal table.
The Captain is issued ONE dot from his mother.
He continues with his bansheeness.
More head turning from the principle Principal table, this time accompanied by some raised eyebrows, some, in places that eyebrows typically don't grow.
The Captain is issued his SECOND dot from his mother, with the following addition to the big giant hole he has bansheed himself into:
You may EITHER put on your socks NOW and go play, OR you may sit down and eat ALL of your supper and THEN you can play AFTER you put your socks back on.
He wants to eat 'some' of his supper and THEN go back and play.
Two Swords casually reminds him, "That offer is not on the table, Son." ( I LOVE my husband!)
Well, as one might have expected, we quickly get to THREE dots, as a result of the gangster arm flailing, the jumping up and down, and the fact that I cannot smack my child in the face at a Spirit Night Chick Fil A, with principle Principals and Deputy Sheriff liasons in attendance, not to mention a whole host of plain-clothed, off duty firemen.
Dangit! The face smacking can only take place at home! Sigh. It is so effective, though! I'd really like to be able to show those non-believers in corporal punishment, how effective a public face smacking can be, when used appropriately, and with self-control on the part of the parent.
But no, I couldn't smack his face, or spank his butt, or yank him by the collar of his shirt.
I had to let him scream it out and gangster arm flail til his elbows broke in two.
And guess what!
The Sparrow has his socks ON, and is munching away on his chicken nuggets, fruit, fries, and chocolate milk. Perhaps THREE dots CAN be a magical number? Nope. He just knows that THREE is the end. If there were FIVE dots, he would push me or his dad, or his teacher all the way to that FIFTH dot.
Reilly the Red arrives at the table, as she was summoned to do so, sweaty, but happy, and happily eats ALL of her meal. EVERY last bite of it. And she politely asks if she may go and play some more. We said that she could, for five minutes. And off she went.
The Sparrow asked if he could go and play some more.
He hadn't eaten ALL of his food, and Two Swords was done with the crowd and the noise and the Jakeness, so I said that since he had eaten MOST of his food, he could go play with his sister for five more minutes, and then he had to finish his supper after he got his bath.
Off he went, socks adorned.
Five minutes later, we're outta there.
One elated, full, and so happy to be alive Reilly the Red.
One very fearful, very frightened for his life, still hungry, Captain Jake Sparrow.
We get home, and the Sparrow is told by his father to head for the tub.
The Sparrow abhors bathing these days, because his parents have determined that 5 is too old for toys. And no, Son, you cannot take a candle lighter into the bathtub with you. And no, Son, you cannot take that steak knife into the bathtub with you. And no, Son, you cannot put FOURTEEN towels INTO the water with you, no matter how badly you want to design your own sailboat.
So bathing is a total and complete waste of his time.
His final punishment for his parental issued THREE dots is that he must finish his take home meal QUICKLY, and go to bed after his one Bible story, and he is NOT allowed to watch American Idol with his sister.
He is on fire again. And no, it's not fever.
But he knows. He is totally powerless and totally busted.
After faking at least one drowning, he is finally out of the tub and dressed in his Ninja pajamas.
He arranges his take home bag on the kitchen island and hops onto a barstool and proceeds to finish it.
I am watching him out of the corner of my eye, as I am deeply mired in some paperwork items.
He goes to the refrigerator and removes the ketchup bottle.
Okay, that's allowed.
I notice him squirting a large circle of ketchup.
He dips his chicken nuggets into the ketchup, and he eats the remaining fruit and fries and drinks all of his chocolate milk.
I look over at him, and notice that most of the food is gone.
I look down at my papers and say to him, 'Jake, when you finish eating, I need you to put all your trash in the garbage, and go wash your hands.'
And then I hear it.
And it is close.
So close I can smell it.
Warning: DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!
I looked up.
Where is the camera?
I need evidence!
I have located the Joker! The Dark Knight Joker! He's here, in my living room!
The Captain of all Captains squirted that large amount of ketchup all over my island for the sole purpose of painting, or shall we say, SMOOSHING his face into the ketchup and just moving his head from side to side and up and down.
And he has already had his bath!
And he has the audacity, after being issued a whopping grand total of SIX freaking dots today!, to creep up beside me and muster a "Hi Mommy"????????????
"GET YOUR ASS ( I never say Ass, I always say butt, but today, he definitely warranted an ASS) INTO THE BATHROOM RIGHT THIS MINUTE AND GET THAT KETCHUP WASHED OFF YOUR FACE IMMEDIATELY!"
"Bu-u-u-u-u-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t, Mommy, it was a a-c-c-c-c-cident!"
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! GO WASH IT OFF NOW!"
Five seconds later, he is staring at his 'work' in the mirror, and he says,
"Man, I do good work! I look just like Joker! Cool!"
ACCIDENT MY ASS!