This was originally written a few years ago - hard to believe, and my kids are all adults now - but never published, I guess better late than never ....
Apologies for the long wait, a week turned into months, and time got away from me. Thank you for your patience. For those not so patient readers - and you know who you are - that have been nagging me, your wait is over.
So if the neighbours haven't already banded together to have us committed, they will after this latest debacle. Grady and Sid decide to play outside, which is OK as far as ideas go. They start by cruising the neighbourhood, Grady on his bike and Sid on an electric scooter. I am inside reading my book, taking advantage of the lull. I should have known better, because I'm not alone for long before the front door opens and slams shut, cutting off a diatribe from my husband, and then I hear heavy footsteps thudding down the stairs. Grady appears disheveled in the doorway.
Against my better judgement I ask him what happened. He mutters something about bumping into Sid and then asks me what is the best method to wash off blood. I'm sure at this point, most caring parents would leap to their feet and race to administer first aid to their offspring. If I wasn't reading such a good book I probably would have. My theory is simple, if Grady was ambulatory enough to make it down the stairs then he could probably manage to patch up his own scrapes.
Before long the I hear the front door open for a second time and my husband yell down "He better not be watching television" and then the door slams shut again. I wasn't sure what the latest admonishment was all about, but I realized I wasn't going to be able to continue with my book until I had got to the bottom of this.
The front door crashes open yet again and this time Rob informs me my daughter is in tears and my children are idiots. I'm obviously not going to get any peace, and my husbands cryptic one liners aren't really helping. Another crash from upstairs - can no one in this house open a door normally ? And this time it is Sid, tear stained and a scowl on her face that did not bode well. She is also scraped up and bloody, but at least now I will get an explanation. However, Sid is not very forthcoming, other than to bemoan the fact Grady has the worst ideas ever.
Finally my husband arrives on the scene still muttering about the stupidity of our offspring, I'm actually surprised he feels the need to comment on this fact,I thought it was a given. At least now I have an opportunity to get to the bottom of the drama. It turns out that after Grady and his sister had motored around the neighbourhood, Grady suggested playing chicken and this is where it came off the rails. You see neither of my children know how to play chicken, at least not the part where you are supposed to veer off at the last moment, instead they gained momentum and had a head on crash at the end of the driveway. Sid knocked Grady clear off his bike, and then proceeded to get entangled in that and the scooter. Like Rob couldn't have seen that coming.
So now both children are in tears and storm off leaving the instruments of their downfall in the middle of the road. Rob is yelling - and probably cursing - at them to grab the bike and scooter, and it is in the midst of this melee that a passing car slows down, and our neighbour waves a cheery greeting. That good readers, is how we have yet again lowered property values in our neighbourhood.
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