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June 18, 2009

Half Baked, Part II

Fortunately, I work in a job where I can pop in and out of the house during the summer on some days, depending on my client visits.

Today was one of those days. I was in the area and decided to pop in for lunch.

Now, since we have three teenagers and they are sometimes home alone, I have some rules.

Rule number 1: No one comes inside unless you talk to me first.

Actually, that is the only rule, other than brush your teeth by 10 am.

What usually happens is this:

Pick a kid, calling me on their cell: "Mom, can _________ come over?"

Me: "Yes, but only 1 person, no more."

Mystery kid: "Okay, no problem."

Nine times out of ten, I come around the corner in my car and the kid I've just been called about is already in the house. Clearly someone has already told them the whole "it's better to beg forgiveness" rule.

So today, we had two extra boys here, plus my three, so five boys here ranging in age from 11 to 18.

I walk in and the first thing I notice is the smell of something cooking. Not good, alarm bells start to go off in my head. Five boys here and something cooking cannot be a good thing unless it's a Red Baron pizza, which I knew this was not.

Keys still in hand, sunglasses on, door wide open, I said very loudly, "what's cooking?"

A chorus comes from kitchen: "BROWNIES."

I walk in the kitchen, and there they all are. Now, if I had not been trying to remain calm about the fact that they were cooking while I was gone, I would have thought to take a photo of this moment.

Picture this:

First, there is Chris, Tyler's friend who is about 6'7. I would offer to contract him out to clean the top of my fridge off monthly because he's so darn tall, except he's headed to Baylor soon.

Then, there is Charlie, who is Jordan's friend, and the spitting image of Dennis the Menace.

And in between are my three, ahem, angels, none of whom followed rule #2 about brushing teeth or hair by 10 am.

All five of them are hovered around the stove eating brownies with a fork, out of a glass dish, like they've just heard that in the next 30 seconds, every bit of food on the planet is going to evaporate.

As they started to part the Red Sea for me to get in and see what they were doing, I noticed those brownies looked, well, gross.

I said, "what are you eating again?"

"Brownies" someone said.

And then the explanation from someone:

"But Tyler didn't want to wait until they were done. So we are eating them half baked."

Sure enough, the top of the brownies were done, the part underneath looked like a gloopy mess of chocolate pudding.

Just about that moment, Chase saw the look on my face and grabbed for paper towels.

Chase is funny like that.

That boy is either on fire, and all pistons are firing.

Or, he does something so completely random (to put it nicely) that you start to wonder if he has performend a self lobotomy. I can provide examples if asked.

Luckily, he was on fire today.

He saw my face, and saw the floor, grabbed the paper towels and started to pick up all the pieces of the brownies on the floor that were NOT making it into one of the five faces.

What is it with boys? They can learn to throw a football or baseball at age 3, and thanks to video games have the fine motor skills of a surgeon.

But when it comes to food in the mouth, or pee in a toilet, they miss more than they get in the designated area? I don't get it. It's clearly both genetic and selective, that aim thing. Sort of like hearing what women say.

In any case, they ate that entire tray of half baked brownies. I opened the fridge and said, "we have two packages of unopened cookie dough as well, if anyone needs to chase down the brownies?"

June 18th. Any teachers out there?

(PS: And no, I wasnt worried about these teenaged boys scarfing up half baked brownies. I'm a step ahead. :)


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