24 February 2018
Story #899
R. Linda:
Living in a house with me three sons can at times be exasperating. On Valentine's Day Eve, me wife had gone out and bought Valentine's cards so the kiddos could give them out at school. For me, it was an eye-opener as these were not the usual Valentine cards with the little red hearts with the Will You Be Mine? on them, no, no, they were this:
I cannot imagine me, as a small kiddo, giving little Molly McGuire a Star Wars Valentine. No, there be much wrong with the whole idea of it. But this is what they do now. The boyos were saying "ick" when Mam asked each one if they were giving Valentines to girls in their class.
"No ugly girls, boys!" Guido said after several icks issued forth from his 8-year-old lips.
O'Hare looked at her like she was ready for THE HOME, and shook his head in disbelief.
The youngest was much more vocal and shouted at the top of his lungs, "I DON'T LIKE GIRLS, THEY ARE SMELLY, SILLIES!"
"Smelly, you say?" Mam ventured into the uncharted waters of a 4-year-old BOY.
"YEAH, DEY SMELL LIKE FLOWERS AN' I DUNT LIKE FLOWERS!"
"Well then, ok." She said, giving Tonya a shocked smile, at which he was told not to shout at his grandmother, and he shouted back, "OK!"
I personally think all three of them have hearing problems. When I ask them to do something like empty the trash bin, they do not seem to hear me. Mam says it be selective hearing because when she tells them she's made chocolate caramel turtles, they are right there. Whatever. They talk very loudly to suit me, so there must be a hearing problem, but I'm not sure.
They did, all three of them, chip in on their allowances and bought their mother this:
I had tried to slip them money for the candy heart, but they wanted to do it on their own. They are independent, and that's a good thing; it's the hearing that worries me.
A few days later, I came home to find we had no Wi-Fi. We live in a rural area of horses and historical buffs who don't like modern conveniences. Personally, I am surprised we are allowed cars and not horses and buggies. I told you the cable company offered to put a cable in for free and even bury the lines, but the town said no. The town over from us has all that, and if you are on the town line, you can sometimes get the service. But it's sporadic at best, so we put up with the lovely look of the place in exchange for fewer services that other folks have.
The Wi-Fi is down occasionally, but this time it went down for four days, or what the boyos said seemed like ten years. I had to drive to the neighbouring town to a little eatery that has Wi-Fi to get and send mail. The boyos, of course, have PlayStation, and you need Wi-Fi for it, and wow, the complaining. You'd think I was solely responsible for the interruption in service.
After telling them they have to live with it and go watch the telly, or even better, go outside and PLAY (the last being an alien concept to all three), they informed me they'd just sit in their rooms and stare at the walls. "WHAT IS THAT?" I shouted so the hearing-impaired could hear me. No answer, and they left me in O'Hare's room with one sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, one on the floor, staring at the floor, and the smallest one, with a piece of Lego, examining it as if he'd never seen it before and had no earthly idea what to do with it. That was day one.
Day two of no Wi-Fi brought the same thing, but they started to fight with each other. Between the three adults in the house, we must have broken up 6 fights an hour. Finally, on day four of no Wi-Fi, I was off from work, when O'Hare came waltzing in from school to stand in the doorway of me office and say, "There is STILL no Wi-Fi," which he repeated at least ten times while I sat there looking at him in astonishment.
"I have no hearing problem, I heard you the first time, and no, there be no Wi-Fi."
He left me in a huff for his room to stare at the wall, while I went back to proofreading an article I was working on.
Soon after Guido comes home, stands in the doorway and announces, "I see da Innernet isn't werkin',"
"That's right," I said, and he disappeared, probably to the floor in his brother's room.
Tonya came home with the wee one and asked me if the Internet was working, to which I shook me head, and off they went to the kitchen.
I could hear the sounds of the other two, drawn to the kitchen, complaining about the fact that they lived in a backwards boondock and wanted to move because, you know, why, and whose bright idea was it to move here in the first place, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!
It wasn't 15 minutes later that Tonya came sweeping into my office, locking the door behind her, armed with her candy box. She opened it up and shoved it in me direction.
"Been that kind of day, has it?" I asked all sweetness and light.
She frowned as she chewed on a caramel, the one candy she does not like. She took it out of her mouth and handed it to me.
"Here, you like caramel." She reached into the box for another chocolate and got a coconut, which she also doesn't like. That she gave me as well, as she told me she was sick and tired of boyos complaining about Wi-Fi. I commiserated with her, yes, I did, and by the time she was calmed down, she had consumed more than half of that box of chocolates, including the few she had forced on me and the one buttercream she had complained I had got that she wanted. An exchange of saliva-drenched chocolate took place a few times. It is a rare thing that Tonya shares a box of chocolates, as she is a fiend for Valentine's candy in heart boxes, especially Russell Stover. So I knew she was done, done, done. To keep her from eating the rest of the box and paying for it later, or worse, her forcing the rejects on me, I went to me computer and lo and behold, the Wi-Fi was back up!
I got up to go tell the boyos, but she stood in front of the locked door.
"Ok, so I guess I won't. I said, sitting back down."
(I blame this all on Dragon, who, a few Christmases ago, gifted each of the boys with a PlayStation and has upgraded them every year (you should see me electric bill!). If it were up to me, they wouldn't have but one and then allotted time each, but I threatened that if their grades failed, they'd get no game time, which backfired because all of them, especially O'Hare, are honour roll students. Defeated on that score, I have tried to make it two hours a day, but somehow I get busy and forget. I leave Mam in charge most of the time, but we know how that goes, it doesn't.)
"Let's tell them at dinner, give them four hours to sit around doing nothing but looking like the world has ended. Then we'll tell them it's been back up."
Oh, Tonya is a vengeful one, isn't she? Unfortunately for her, Guido tried the Internet on occasion and found for himself that it worked. In his room, he turned his system on and was busy with it when his brother heard familiar Internet sounds and came wandering in to see what Guido was doing. He hit his brother upside the head when he found that Guido neglected to let him know SYSTEM'S BACK UP. This brought the wee one in to complain he was tired of Peppa Pig and wanted to play a game on the game box.
Tonya left to set him up, and the sounds of people talking (that I don't know), strange cartoon sounds, explosions, gunfire, and crazy laughter filled the house. We are back up to that bizarre normal that invades a home. And the reason I know we are all backed up isn't because I turned on me computer, but the game boxes are turned up to LOUD.
"And you wonder why dey don't hear ya," Mam said to me when I came in complaining I couldn't think for the noise, "all of 'em haf da earplugs in and the volume turned up, so dats why. In Ire'lynd, dey don't due dat sort a ting."
"Oh, hold on," and I took her to O'Hare's room. O'Hare has this Irish gamer he spars with, and the guy has his own Internet show where he explains his strategies of gamesmanship. He has pink hair one day, green the next, but the Irish accent be as thick as Mam's. I showed her the young laddie who was on screen, platinum and blue hair this time, yammering away in his Irish accent about the latest in glitch modding, which was lost on the two of us but not O'Hare, who speaks back at the bloke in a feigned Irish accent of his own. I tell ya! It was so loud in there that I had to close the door. I felt like I was at the Temple Bar in Dublin with everyone shouting at each other over the pub noise.
I sighed, she left me for the quiet of her room at the back of the house, where it be relatively peaceful being away from the other bedrooms. I envy her.
As for Tonya, she's finished the boyo's candy Valentine they gave her and be working on mine. She told me she will be weighing in at a hefty 250 pounds soon.
"That's nice," I said, stealing a piece of candy. "I will have deaf sons, a reclusive mother and a pleasantly plump wife. What more could I want except peace and quiet for a few hours?"
"Give it up," she said, "you aren't getting that until they all leave the nest." She shoved the box at me, and we sat there eating candy for the next hour. She won't be the only hefty weight in the house, I will be right there with her, only muffin top be me curse, as you well know from a fudge episode YOU were responsible for.
Happy belated Valentine's Day, Muse!
Gabe
Copyright © 2018 All rights reserved
Story #899
R. Linda:
Living in a house with me three sons can at times be exasperating. On Valentine's Day Eve, me wife had gone out and bought Valentine's cards so the kiddos could give them out at school. For me, it was an eye-opener as these were not the usual Valentine cards with the little red hearts with the Will You Be Mine? on them, no, no, they were this:
 |
| Charming |
"No ugly girls, boys!" Guido said after several icks issued forth from his 8-year-old lips.
O'Hare looked at her like she was ready for THE HOME, and shook his head in disbelief.
The youngest was much more vocal and shouted at the top of his lungs, "I DON'T LIKE GIRLS, THEY ARE SMELLY, SILLIES!"
"Smelly, you say?" Mam ventured into the uncharted waters of a 4-year-old BOY.
"YEAH, DEY SMELL LIKE FLOWERS AN' I DUNT LIKE FLOWERS!"
"Well then, ok." She said, giving Tonya a shocked smile, at which he was told not to shout at his grandmother, and he shouted back, "OK!"
I personally think all three of them have hearing problems. When I ask them to do something like empty the trash bin, they do not seem to hear me. Mam says it be selective hearing because when she tells them she's made chocolate caramel turtles, they are right there. Whatever. They talk very loudly to suit me, so there must be a hearing problem, but I'm not sure.
They did, all three of them, chip in on their allowances and bought their mother this:
 |
| Boyos Valentine Candy For Tonya |
I had tried to slip them money for the candy heart, but they wanted to do it on their own. They are independent, and that's a good thing; it's the hearing that worries me.
A few days later, I came home to find we had no Wi-Fi. We live in a rural area of horses and historical buffs who don't like modern conveniences. Personally, I am surprised we are allowed cars and not horses and buggies. I told you the cable company offered to put a cable in for free and even bury the lines, but the town said no. The town over from us has all that, and if you are on the town line, you can sometimes get the service. But it's sporadic at best, so we put up with the lovely look of the place in exchange for fewer services that other folks have.
The Wi-Fi is down occasionally, but this time it went down for four days, or what the boyos said seemed like ten years. I had to drive to the neighbouring town to a little eatery that has Wi-Fi to get and send mail. The boyos, of course, have PlayStation, and you need Wi-Fi for it, and wow, the complaining. You'd think I was solely responsible for the interruption in service.
After telling them they have to live with it and go watch the telly, or even better, go outside and PLAY (the last being an alien concept to all three), they informed me they'd just sit in their rooms and stare at the walls. "WHAT IS THAT?" I shouted so the hearing-impaired could hear me. No answer, and they left me in O'Hare's room with one sitting on the bed, staring at the wall, one on the floor, staring at the floor, and the smallest one, with a piece of Lego, examining it as if he'd never seen it before and had no earthly idea what to do with it. That was day one.
Day two of no Wi-Fi brought the same thing, but they started to fight with each other. Between the three adults in the house, we must have broken up 6 fights an hour. Finally, on day four of no Wi-Fi, I was off from work, when O'Hare came waltzing in from school to stand in the doorway of me office and say, "There is STILL no Wi-Fi," which he repeated at least ten times while I sat there looking at him in astonishment.
"I have no hearing problem, I heard you the first time, and no, there be no Wi-Fi."
He left me in a huff for his room to stare at the wall, while I went back to proofreading an article I was working on.
Soon after Guido comes home, stands in the doorway and announces, "I see da Innernet isn't werkin',"
"That's right," I said, and he disappeared, probably to the floor in his brother's room.
Tonya came home with the wee one and asked me if the Internet was working, to which I shook me head, and off they went to the kitchen.
I could hear the sounds of the other two, drawn to the kitchen, complaining about the fact that they lived in a backwards boondock and wanted to move because, you know, why, and whose bright idea was it to move here in the first place, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!
It wasn't 15 minutes later that Tonya came sweeping into my office, locking the door behind her, armed with her candy box. She opened it up and shoved it in me direction.
"Been that kind of day, has it?" I asked all sweetness and light.
She frowned as she chewed on a caramel, the one candy she does not like. She took it out of her mouth and handed it to me.
"Here, you like caramel." She reached into the box for another chocolate and got a coconut, which she also doesn't like. That she gave me as well, as she told me she was sick and tired of boyos complaining about Wi-Fi. I commiserated with her, yes, I did, and by the time she was calmed down, she had consumed more than half of that box of chocolates, including the few she had forced on me and the one buttercream she had complained I had got that she wanted. An exchange of saliva-drenched chocolate took place a few times. It is a rare thing that Tonya shares a box of chocolates, as she is a fiend for Valentine's candy in heart boxes, especially Russell Stover. So I knew she was done, done, done. To keep her from eating the rest of the box and paying for it later, or worse, her forcing the rejects on me, I went to me computer and lo and behold, the Wi-Fi was back up!
I got up to go tell the boyos, but she stood in front of the locked door.
"Ok, so I guess I won't. I said, sitting back down."
(I blame this all on Dragon, who, a few Christmases ago, gifted each of the boys with a PlayStation and has upgraded them every year (you should see me electric bill!). If it were up to me, they wouldn't have but one and then allotted time each, but I threatened that if their grades failed, they'd get no game time, which backfired because all of them, especially O'Hare, are honour roll students. Defeated on that score, I have tried to make it two hours a day, but somehow I get busy and forget. I leave Mam in charge most of the time, but we know how that goes, it doesn't.)
"Let's tell them at dinner, give them four hours to sit around doing nothing but looking like the world has ended. Then we'll tell them it's been back up."
Oh, Tonya is a vengeful one, isn't she? Unfortunately for her, Guido tried the Internet on occasion and found for himself that it worked. In his room, he turned his system on and was busy with it when his brother heard familiar Internet sounds and came wandering in to see what Guido was doing. He hit his brother upside the head when he found that Guido neglected to let him know SYSTEM'S BACK UP. This brought the wee one in to complain he was tired of Peppa Pig and wanted to play a game on the game box.
Tonya left to set him up, and the sounds of people talking (that I don't know), strange cartoon sounds, explosions, gunfire, and crazy laughter filled the house. We are back up to that bizarre normal that invades a home. And the reason I know we are all backed up isn't because I turned on me computer, but the game boxes are turned up to LOUD.
"And you wonder why dey don't hear ya," Mam said to me when I came in complaining I couldn't think for the noise, "all of 'em haf da earplugs in and the volume turned up, so dats why. In Ire'lynd, dey don't due dat sort a ting."
"Oh, hold on," and I took her to O'Hare's room. O'Hare has this Irish gamer he spars with, and the guy has his own Internet show where he explains his strategies of gamesmanship. He has pink hair one day, green the next, but the Irish accent be as thick as Mam's. I showed her the young laddie who was on screen, platinum and blue hair this time, yammering away in his Irish accent about the latest in glitch modding, which was lost on the two of us but not O'Hare, who speaks back at the bloke in a feigned Irish accent of his own. I tell ya! It was so loud in there that I had to close the door. I felt like I was at the Temple Bar in Dublin with everyone shouting at each other over the pub noise.
I sighed, she left me for the quiet of her room at the back of the house, where it be relatively peaceful being away from the other bedrooms. I envy her.
As for Tonya, she's finished the boyo's candy Valentine they gave her and be working on mine. She told me she will be weighing in at a hefty 250 pounds soon.
"That's nice," I said, stealing a piece of candy. "I will have deaf sons, a reclusive mother and a pleasantly plump wife. What more could I want except peace and quiet for a few hours?"
"Give it up," she said, "you aren't getting that until they all leave the nest." She shoved the box at me, and we sat there eating candy for the next hour. She won't be the only hefty weight in the house, I will be right there with her, only muffin top be me curse, as you well know from a fudge episode YOU were responsible for.
Happy belated Valentine's Day, Muse!
Gabe
Copyright © 2018 All rights reserved
finally a story! things have changed since i was a kid. you should live up here where everyone lives pretty much off the grid then your boys would appreciate what they have
ReplyDeleteCan't say I was out playing with friends when a wee tyke, and I'm guilty of the electronic gaming world, still am. I know big kid needs to grow up, but gaming is addictive!
ReplyDeleteI have to finish reading this later! I can't believe the size and age of the boys! PLUS I got to chocolate turtles and could read no further . WHERE ARE MY TURTLES?
ReplyDeleteNo turtles for you until you are better.
DeleteOh for the good old days muffin man! Thanks for the belated holiday I love the story! Feeling better in bits and pieces p.t. starts again today. Fun
Delete