What I’m about to share is self-incriminating, bad-parent behavior. I’m sure Dr. Spock (the one on this planet) would never approve. In all likelihood, I’m setting in motion factors and variables that will ruin my children by the time they are ready (or completely un-ready) to enter society. I know you will judge me, but I’m going to share anyway.
This weekend, my family (except, of course, M37 (a.k.a. “Mom”), who only tolerates this behavior when she is too far away to do much about it) is celebrating a great Miller family (not our real name) tradition – “Junk Food Weekend!”
Mom is away at a women’s retreat, hopefully able to push this tradition from her consciousness and enjoy her socks off. That leaves D37, C14, A11.75 and S9 at home all alone with a bit of disposable income and no heavy commitments for the next two days. On occasions such as these, Dad and the kids celebrate (no, not that Mom is away – perish the thought!) our freedom to go a little nuts. It’s a stay-up-as-late-as-you want-play-video-games-and-watch-movies-while-stuffing-your-face-free-for-all!
You see, M37 is a bit of a “rules” person. Rules that good parents enforce, like regular bedtimes, healthy eating habits, cleanliness and moderation – rules that D37 rebels against, because they were established by The Man to make our lives miserable. M37 is successfully (if oh, so very slowly) domesticating D37 and getting some rules-compliance while he is under her watchful eye, but when the cat’s away…
By common consent, each Junk Food Weekend begins with a junk food shopping spree. Dad and the kiddos hit the local grocery store and buy up all the least nutritious items it has in stock. It doesn’t matter if they like the taste or not – purchasing decisions are made based on what can do their bodies the most damage before the weekend ends. In addition to the items that get full group agreement, each kid is allowed to pick out one to two personal choices that repulse the others.
This was our haul for this weekend’s event. I know, it looks a bit, uh….excessive. And it probably definitely is, but we won’t actually consume all that in two days (I don’t think). That’s just to give us options. And actually, this is the result of two junk food shopping sprees. M37 made one for us a few days ago, but we didn’t trust her judgment – you know, the whole “rules” thing – so, we did a second shopping spree just to make sure. Looks like we might have some leftovers.
So far, it looks like our shopping choices were right on target, except S9 was not at all impressed with Thailand’s version of chocolate milk. After slamming down an entire glass, he said,
“Oh, Dad! That was so gross! It was so thick, it was like drinking a chocolate loogie!”
(Later, we discovered that it had expired several months ago (even though we just bought it). When S9 poured it out, it took more than ten minutes to go down the drain – with the help of a spatula.)
It’s been a few hours since he consumed the toxin, and he’s still twitching eating, so I think he must be okay. Please don’t call M37 and destroy her serenity. We’ve been through traumas like this one before. This is like our fifteenth Junk Food Weekend or something, and we’ve never even once been to the emergency room. (It was just a flesh wound, I keep telling her.)
No time for anymore play-by-play. The kids are calling, and it’s time to put in last The Lord of the Rings movie – the extended, sixteen-hour director’s cut. Whoever falls asleep is getting the shaving-cream-in-the hand-feather-under-the-nose-trick!
UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE!
I couldn’t resist…