Glfralin

Tony is now 6 years old and addicted to the “Dukes of Hazard” television show. The show is fun, but most kids don’t set out to live it the way my son does. My daughter Angela is 91/2 and has learned, at least for now, to stay low on my radar.

Last Christmas we got Tony a brand new bicycle. We gave him a mini lecture about caring for it and Joe took him out for bicycle safety training. Which has no effect because now there’s the “Dukes of Hazard?”

Tony decides that the bike can do the same tricks as the “General Lee”. So, here we go. I now have a danger kid who’s in danger of killing himself.

At first it isn’t so bad just little stuff for which I sit him down and give him a reality check story about the difference between Hollywood and real life. Of course that does no good whatsoever. Tony says “I know” and out the door he goes to try an even bigger trick.

I am sublimely secure that my motherly attempts have succeeded and busy myself with other pursuits.

Tony gets a piece of plywood from the garage, digs up enough dirt to make a small mountain and then ramps it.

“Mom,” I hear the delighted Tony as he runs in the back door. “Come and watch what I can do.” Oh dear Lord what now.

I walk out the back door, take a horrifying look at the back yards new ditch, and fail to catch my kid full of moonshine madness before he’s off for the ramp. I yell out, but Tony is deaf in his eagerness to show me how wrong I am.

He mounts the bike, gets a big peddling start and then he’s up the ramp, over the new ditch, and crash… He gets up, runs to me and says “See mom, I can do it!”

Dear Lord please - deliver me and this child. I know one of us won’t make it till he’s eighteen.

I take him by the arm, back to the ditch, pick up the shovel, put it in his hands, grab the board and throw it across the yard, check the bike for damage, and then let fly. “TONY,
I TOLD YOU AND YOU JUST HAVE TO GO AND BLAH, BLAH, BLAH…!

(Breath)

“You’re grounded from you bike for two weeks.”

“But, Mom I” and it ends there as soon as he sees the volcanic blast ready to spew hellfire and brimstone onto his head.

I grab the bicycle and drag the dented and bruised thing to the garage and hang it on wall hooks.

Joe has his meltdown when he gets home and sees the haphazard effort to fill our new ditch. His meltdown was a little less dramatic than mine, but he wasn’t happy.

Eventually the pressure cooker inside our home reduces to a safe level and we are able to open our doors to the world again.

The next day, I am busy changing cloths after work and looking forward to a nice glass of iced tea and a few moments to gather energy for the evening. I look out the window to see Tony, on the new bike, racing down the middle of the street at high speed and screech he breaks, and melts down his tires on the hot pavement.

“Damn, that kid!”

I look to heaven and pray “Lord I know you don’t give us more than we can bear, but you’ve come awful close with this one.” as if chastising God will somehow improve matters.

I barely remember to finish putting my t-shirt and shorts on before I’m out the back door.

“TONY!” My scream starts at about the C above middle C and slides up a full octave as I prolong the call for emphasis.

The kid looks up the street and from where he is I’m sure he can see the fire coming from my inner core and building steam.

Already knowing what he’d done, he bravely rides his bike back up to me and into the garage. I point my finger toward the door. “In the house, you are now grounded from playing outside for a week.”

Now I’m punishing myself, ouch.

I take the bicycle and find a bike chain. I get Joe’s ladder and chain it to a rafter. Then I get the tow chain and lash it around the bike several times and hook the ends together. That should fix him.

I go in the house. I don’t dare approach the kid now, so I get my glass of iced tea and set at the kitchen table. I pick up the phone call my friend Kris and start relieving myself of my frustrations. We tend to do that for each other, after which I start to plan my nervous break down. She gets me laughing and the firestorm is subsides.

This time Joe comes home, looks up at the bike, and comes in the back door scratching his head. He takes one look at me and starts laughing. I want to hit the bum.

“Well, you are resourceful, dear. But, I kind of think Tony is always one ahead.”

Jerk!

All is quiet for a few days. But then as my son is a six year old genius and circus performer, the bike miraculously comes down from the rafter. It’s my day off, so I haven’t been in on the current Tony trick. The telephone rings and like an idiot I answered it.

It’s the neighbor lady, “Do you know where your son is?

“He’s downstairs watching cartoons.”

“No, he’s riding his bicycle down one hill of our back yard and trying to race up the other and jump over to the next yard.”

“He can’t be that bike has been hanging chained to the rafters in the garage from three days.”

“Well then he’s got someone else’s bike, and I don’t appreciate him tearing up my back yard.”

I shoot out the back door, look up and sure enough that bike is gone. I’m out the door just in time to see my son going head first down the embankment of her sunken back yard.

By this time I don’t have an ounce of sanity left. I pick up my child. I check to see that his head is still attached and not gushing. I pat him down for broken bones. Then I pick up the bike sending him to his room.

This time I’ve got the quintessential cure for the “General Lee” bicycle. I remove the handle bars and lock them in the trunk of my car under some of Joe’s tools and rags.

The rest of the summer wasn’t quiet, but there were no more bike problems. “Dukes of Hazard” was banned from our home.

-------

One evening in mid June after pulling an afternoon shift, I find Joe in the front room watching a movie with the kids. “Guess what dear.” I’m smiling from ear to ear.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant!”

__________________
Simplicity is such a beautiful thing. Take a look at the simple things around you.

I will try to respond in kind.

http://wordsprings.blogspot.com/

Glfralin

This would be a second short story of the same group of short stories about incidents with my children. This doesn't replace the first.

__________________
Simplicity is such a beautiful thing. Take a look at the simple things around you.

I will try to respond in kind.

http://wordsprings.blogspot.com/