My kids are weird and I’ve got the story to prove it.
About a month ago, I called my children into the kitchen. “Kids!” I announced. “Our semi annual trip is coming up, so let’s be ready!”
Their eyes grew large. Their mouths hung open. Then, they danced. Yes…they actually danced. I moved away from the wall and leaned against the counter to once again watch this bizarre phenomenon unfold.
Really it would be totally embarrassing if others could see inside our lives at this time of the year. The daily talks of this trip would make people scratch their heads and take another look at life. And the fact my seven year old asked to make a countdown would lead some to wonder if kids were going to start loving broccoli too.
For the next five weeks, we discussed our upcoming outing. I would drill them on what needed to be done in the hopes they would be able to brush up on the essentials without me. Their voices would take on an excited high pitch with every mention of the trip while mine reached even higher decibels brought on by stress.
Finally, the night before we were to leave arrived. As the kids were getting set for bed, I made them do one final cleaning. We were going in the morning whether we were ready or not, but I would do everything in my power to be sure we were prepared.
Morning came and I piled the kids into the van. They giggled amongst themselves and rubbed their hands with glee as they shared memories from past trips to help bridge the time. I drove the van and shook my head. “What is wrong with these kids?” I wondered.
“Are we there yet?” asked my daughter followed quickly by my youngest asking “How much further?” It’s only twenty-five minutes away, but you would think we were going to another state with how often they asked.
We pulled into our usual parking spot and the kids unbuckled their seatbelts jumping up and cheering like fans at a rock concert. Before opening the door and allowing the embarrassing sounds to escape, I scanned the parking lot to be sure we were alone.
Once in the building, we filed into the elevator and my four year old somehow managed to use all ten fingertips to push the button for the second floor. This was truly a crowning moment for him as he beamed up at me. As for me, my stomach sank as the elevator rose. I knew this trip would cost us a ton of money and usually resulted in more than one lecture. My kids, though, were happily clueless. After all, there were prizes.
We opened the door and were ushered in quite swiftly. My children took up their usual seats and leaned back in supreme comfort while trying to control their shaking bodies as they wiggled excitedly.
Then it began. The latex gloves were snapped into place, the face masks were pulled down, and one by one, the hygienists greeted my children and began the process of cleaning their teeth.
So there you have it…my kids are weird!
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