It went like this-- The boys were over for the first time this weekend (the deets on that story is a whooooooole other story). After spoiling them with gifts of kites, compasses, and neat little LED flashlights, my dad and I began a tour of the house. The boys were mostly quiet and probably a good bit scared by the whole scene. We walked down to the basement and their wide eyes demonstrated how brave they were being as they descended into the unknown. On the way down, my dad turned off the light and said "oooh, its dark! Does anyone have a flashlight?!", and three little blonde voices shouted "I do!" in unison as three little LED flashlight circles pierced the darkness. I mean, could you just die from a cute overdose or what?!
Down in the basement, Dad proceeded to show the eldest how to use (read: turn on) the treadmill and the little ones how to operate the pinball machine (circa 1918) before exiting said basement. I was then alone. With three little blonde boys. Three little adorable blonde boys, a treadmill, and a pinball machine. Oh, and the kitty poop box. Complete and utter chaos then erupted. And to think, before this moment, I didn't even know that kitty litter was edible! Nor was I aware that my parents kept a fishing rod, outfitted with a large, three-pronged hook, right out in the grabbable open!
The hour that followed is pretty much a blur. I recall some screaming but that could have been any of us. Somehow, eventually, I was able to rally and tucked 1.5 boys under each arm and headed for the stairs. I found my father at the top. Purple with laughter.
Happy new year!