In this week's edition of After-School Enrichment Nightmare, I went to pick the boys up and got there a little early again. At least this time I knew where I was going so I wasn't wandering around like some lost soul. I was so proud, so smug, so self-righteous that I paraded right on over to the classroom where the Mad Science class was and peeked in the door to see what they were working on.
And no one was there.
My heart dropped to the floor. Maybe even lower than that. My head was racing - where were the kids? Was it the right day? (Um, yes, dummy, you walked right by the chocolate-making workshop in the cafeteria...) Did they finish early and take them somewhere else to hold them until the parents showed up?
I tried to look cool, but I was freaking out. All I could think about was having to call Heather and tell her that I not only lost my kid, but her kid too. I went back to the front door of the school and checked the room number again...yes, it was the right room. So I went back and waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally another parent showed up and looked in the door too. And she looked equally panicky. But at least she had the sense to track down one of the PTA organizers to find out where the kids were, unlike yours truly who was silently wetting her pants. Ahem.
They were outside. Yesterday was Rocket Day and they were setting off rockets outside. And yes, they actually had some other volunteers this time to keep a little more control. The kids came bursting back inside, all looking excited and happy. Except you-know-who.
Alexander. Remember him? Yeah, not looking so happy. But looking bloody. He had a cut on his chin.
Out comes the crazy lab coat lady. "Are Alexander's parents here?"
We all kind of look at each other. No, no one is there to claim poor Alexander.
"Well, he needs a band-aid when they come to pick him up." And just like the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland she popped back in the door again.
"Surely that can't be the same kid," said the mother next to me. "Yeah, I'm afraid it is," I replied. "I saw him come back in, he was kind of hard to miss since like part of his eyebrow was singed off last week."
No word on how he incurred the injury - and apparently no one else was harmed in the firing of the rockets. They did send each kid home with a rocket kit, which of course the boys wanted to open immediately and set off in the car. Um, no dice, punks.
"Awwww, let's just do it at YOUR house Monkey Man!" piped up Josh (who by the way probably thinks I'm the meanest mommy ever since I make them behave, eat their dinner, and won't allow fireworks to be ignited in a moving vehicle).
"No, you can do it at your house when you get home. Don't you think your mommy and daddy want to see your rocket?" I asked.
"Nah, it'll be way more fun at your house!"
So then began Operation Stall Tactic. How to keep two 5-year-old boys from using these rockets before I could get rid of one and send him home with aforementioned rocket. Immediately, I thought I'd take them to McDonald's...last week the two of them were almost off the hook with bitterness because I wouldn't let them eat inside and then play on the indoor playground stuff. Mostly because I think those things are like the dirtiest, germiest things ever but the other part was just not wanting to deal with Josh. So off to McD's we went.
We get inside, it took forever to get our food, and the kids were about to come out of their skin because they wanted to play NOW NOW NOW. I made them finish their dinners and then the two of them burst into the playroom while I settled back with a bottle of water and decided to catch up on a few phone calls.
And you know what happens next.
Two minutes later, I look inside and the two of them are crawling all through the tubes and look like they're having a great time. The time of their lives. The best day ever!
Five minutes later, they have their shoes back on and are standing in front of me.
"We're bored. There's no one to play with. We want to go home." says Josh.
"Um, there are TWO of you. Can't you guys play with each other?"
Apparently not. Apparently when you bring a friend to the McD's playroom it automatically converts them into ally status and they are now not considered "someone" to play with.
ARGH. So we all get in the car and head to the house. And talk of the rockets ensues again. Luckily, I was able to stall them long enough for Heather to show up and pack up Josh and the Rocket and head home. Thank God.
I was waiting and waiting for Joey to come home - not only was he supposed to bring something for us to have for dinner, but I was hoping for a little help in the kid-wrangling department. Finally, after an hour passed that he said he was going to be home I called him on the phone.
"Where the hell are you?"
"I'm still at work. I've had a little crisis come up that I have to deal with. What's going on?"
"Well, let's see. The boys are upstairs beating the crap out of that inflatable Spider Man thing and they are making the entire house shake. Not to mention that you've left me the house with guns, liquor, fireworks, and two 5-year-olds - and if you don't come home soon, one of us isn't going to make it out of here alive."
"I'll be home in 20 minutes."
Monkey Man's playroom is a mess, I didn't get anything done, but at least no one lost an eye. Yet another successful Wednesday afternoon.