The high school up the street from our house is the site of a lovely, new football stadium. It’s kind of fancy for a high school football stadium with its limestone-lined bleachers, full-service concession stand, press box, brand spanking new turf and state-of-the-art lighting. We can hear the band from our house so tonight – and last Friday night – we headed up after dinner to check things out at the new venue.
It’s cold here tonight and we had no intention of actually getting out of the car to attend the game. We were just out cruising. We had in mind that we would turn up the heat, roll down the windows and double park for a few minutes to see and hear the action. Andrew had in mind that we would fight for a parking spot, pay for the family to enter the stadium, brave the elements and the crowd to find a seat, and really sit down and watch the game.
Fortunately, we’re still in charge…mostly. We watched for a few minutes then Mark put the car in gear to head the ship home.
That’s when Andrew turned up the whine full-throttle and announced that we were the meanest parents he knew, what with how we wouldn’t let him sit outside without a coat to watch our local team being soundly defeated. Telling us once that we were mean wasn’t enough, so he decided to repeat himself…a few times.
After about the third outburst Mark pointed to a bunch of police cars parked behind the school and said, “You’re right. We’re so mean to you. We’re so mean that you might want to hop out and tell those police officers how terribly we treat you. Or, better yet, just call them. Tell them how mean we are.”
…10 seconds of silence from the backseat…
Then Thomas pipes up. “We can’t tell the police that, Daddy, ‘cause you didn’t get us pheletones yet.”
I guess we’ll add that to the list of injustices.