Thursday, December 27, 2012

The Mansion Is Under Seige

The #1 son is having friends in tonight.

Actually the friends have been here since shortly after 2:30 this afternoon. And another just arrived. At 9:00 p.m. I am being held captive in my basement lair, so as not to embarrass the Crown Prince of Hillmomba. The spare heir is holed up in his bedroom. Not that it's a hardship. He has a TV with 150 channels of DISH Network, a laptop, internet, a Kindle, a Kindle Fire, all his books, and too many assorted weapons to count. Farmer H escaped to the bowling alley, but I expect him home any minute. Where they will stash him remains to be seen.

Hark! What heavy tread through yonder ceiling tromps? Farmer H has returned. We shall see if he flushes the covey of nerds from their living room nest. They have alternated between there and the basement big-screen, though they have been playing games all the live-long day and night. There had been talk of watching a movie or two. A dalliance that would end at 8:00. That's not happening. Oops! I just heard Farmer H settle into his La-Z-Boy. We'll see what develops. Ha! Less that sixty seconds from Farmer H to basement. That's got to be a record.

I do not begrudge #1 his gathering. He is overdue to wear the hosting hat. But his bossiness was grating on my nerves yesterday. A day in which he left the Mansion at 9:30 a.m., and did not return for twelve hours. Then demanded to know why The Pony and I had not been cleaning up for his impending visitors. Even though we had been gone from 10:00 to 4:00 on a quest for Convenient Care and glasses repair and package pickup. Not to mention the fact that it was HIS shindig, and HIS junk as well that needed cleaning.

He's not really holding me captive. He asked me to come out and meet his friends, two of whom I am already familiar with. Oh, I know his friends from OUR school. But these are from surrounding districts, and two colleges. A bigger nerdfest you could not imagine. At least I know where he is. And who he's with. I suppose I should not be concerned that they were screaming about black tar heroin. It was part of a game, I was told.

Surely these youngsters have a curfew...


Sioux said...

No, only YOUR kids have one. Everybody else lets their kids stay out til all hours of the night.

"You want my kid to spend the night but I've never met your kid or you? Fine. No problem."

"His mom is a teacher? Hey, she can keep you for the rest of the month...that's fine by me."

Yes, these parents today are quite lax.

Hillbilly Mom said...

They left at 11:30. I was exhausted. Even though I always stay up until 1:00 or 2:00.

Haha! Tonight my kid is going to spend THE WHOLE NIGHT at one of their homes. That's his story. He has strict instructions to call when he arrives. I figure that cell signal can be triangulated if need be. Farmer H has met the parents. Still, this is the place he took pictures of the exploding bottles of various flammable liquids the dad shot with a rifle.

If you hear about a conflagration in Hillmomba, that's probably the location.