So here is the set-up: Mrs. MacLoosh is away on business. That leaves me solely in charge (stated with a smirk on my face) of two very active kids.
Experience has taught me that once I lose control of any given situation, that means that the whole shittin' thing is in danger of collapse. Once chaos has raises its ugly head, it has staying power. Trust me.
In tune with that, today was nothing less than a slippery slope to the kind of pandemonium that only a deranged clown on meth could come up with. This happened DESPITE my concerted efforts to keep a lid on things. That's right. When the wheels begin to slide...the harder I hit the breaks, the worse the slide gets. Sailors call it a "yaw", when describing a deviation from the direct course.
With the above in mind, it shouldn't have surprised me when my son started in with the questions after a slight case of road rage with associated Tourrret's syndrome on my part. I may or may not have even made up a few new swear words while spewing at a knucklehead driver today.
My boy was in the vehicle to witness my meltdown My daughter, thankfully, wasn't. He is very literal, that boy of mine. He thinks in black and white terms, so when I started inventing adjectives; his mind needed answers.
With the frustration of people who need remedial driving lessons fresh on my mind, coupled with the sudden awareness of what I had just said in front of my son.....he asked, in the way only a kid can ask: Dad? If that person is a pigfucker, does that mean they do bad things to pigs?
I think I did a nice job of keeping my own vehicle on the road as the blood drained from my head. I was (admittedly) blinded by the simple desire to say "Yes, son. I am pretty sure that asshole was having his way with Wilbur when he should have been driving".
Instead, I copped out. Big time. My reply? "So buddy, Bean is eating with the neighbors...what do you want, McDonalds or Culver's?" Thankfully, he took the bait. Culver's it was. "Hamburger or chicken strips?" "I think I want a corn-dog". Sounds good..A corn-dog it is.
Still not 100% out of the woods, the drive through dork nearly pushed me over the edge again. It went something like this:
I'd like a kids corn-dog meal with a chocolate milk.
"you want a side of corn? What would you like for a meal?"
That is a CORN DOG KIDS MEAL WITH CHOCOLATE MILK.
Snickering, and a condescending tone out of the blue squawk box: Oh, OK, that is a CORN DOG KIDS MEAL WITH CHOCOLATE MILK. WOULD YOU LIKE ANYTHING ELSE?
Do you just want to go home?
Yes. More than anything.
I bet you want a beer, huh?
Yes. More than anything.
The night really didn't get better from there. With Mrs. MacLoosh out of town, even the dog is out of alignment. So with a tip of my Bud Light, from the safety of my home: I toast to all the peckerwood drive through smart-asses and idiot drivers out there. Touche'. This round goes to you.