Month: December 2020

            Just when you think you’ve seen it all, a four-door sedan filled with teens pulls in front of your house on Saturday morning to drop off your kid who “spent the night at friends.” They spill out of the car like a bunch of clowns in a circus ring. Watching from the sliding glass door, I deduce this must have been a co-ed sleep over. Really? The story was it’s a smallish birthday party and his friend’s dad doesn’t care who crashes for the night. Interestingly, the co-ed aspect was glossed over. The lies of omission just keep piling up.

                As I continue watching curiously from inside the house, my teen pops the trunk. Now that seems odd. He didn’t take anything with him. All sorts of thoughts race through my mind in an instant. Maybe it’s left over beer from the evening debacle and he plans to store it in the garage fridge. Yup, he’s done that before. Like we aren’t going to see a 12-pack sitting next to the sparkling water and Capri Suns?

                Much to my shock, a lovely young girl with long dark hair jumps out of the trunk. Huh? Now, I’ve seen them pack more kids inside without enough seat belts, but this is an entirely new phenomenon. Clearly, they have no idea the potential risks of riding in the trunk. Legalities aside, what if there’s a rear-end collision? Even more horrifying is that this is not a new car. What if there’s something wrong with the exhaust system which leads to carbon monoxide poisoning? I remember being a teenage idiot, but certainly we had a better sense of self-preservation.

                When I asked my kid what’s up with the girl in the trunk? He simply replied, “she didn’t have a ride.” The solution seems simple enough in his mind. Nothing bad could possibly happen. It’s amazing how none of them can identify potential danger. His under-developed brain stem reasons that if nothing bad happened before, then nothing bad can happen in the future. “Just chill bruh.” These are the moments I yearn to fast-forward to the end of the teen parenting movie to see if it’s a happy ending.

          For those unfamiliar with the game, Extreme BeanBoozled is a collection of disgusting flavored Jelly Beans that challenges both young and old with “Are you brave enough?  Not for the scaredy cats or whiners. Extreme BeanBoozled is only for the brave and daring. No safety nets. No good flavors. No relief.” To give you an idea of the flavors, the selection includes Dirty Dish Water, Skunk Spray, Barf, Rotten Egg, Dead Fish and Booger. Seems like a perfect birthday game for a bunch of tweens trying to entertain themselves during a COVID friendly, co-hort of just five boys.

                Our birthday tradition always includes a trip to the local candy store, Scrumptious. They have literally every kind of candy including the old school, nostalgic goodies like Candy Cigarettes, Fun Dip, Razzles and Pop Rocks.  This trip was a pee your pants, tears in your eyes, belly laugh moment watching each boy eat their unfortunate bean choice. The Academy Award for best Jelly Bean drama goes to Brig.

                 After each boy selected their candy allotment, we took the party outside. As with all birthday parties, I’m usually watching the time, thinking, “only one more hour before everyone goes home and I can get back to some me time and a cocktail.”  A few rounds in, several of the boys had already chickened out. The remaining three were using the time-tested system of eeny, meeny, miny, moe to pick the next bean, when Brig lands on Skunk Spray. Really, there’s no good choice, so I figured it can’t be any worse than his previous turns. The great part is I have the entire thing on video. The question is should I share this without parental permission? Crap, probably not, but it is so hysterical that I’m giggling just thinking about it.

                I’ll do my best to transcribe. Lots of excited chatter among the boys as Brig says, “I think I’m going to spit this one out boys.” Birthday boy, “no don’t. Brig, you can do this.” Hubby, “we believe in you Brig.” They start chanting “eat..eat..eat,” as his head moves in a whiplash motion, while gagging repeatedly ending in the grand finale of a small puddle of vomit on the sidewalk. The crowd goes wild. I guess we’re all desperate for entertainment these days, so I laughed a little too hard. However, he shook it off easily and seemed to be proud of his puddle. We may have started another right of passage to teen hood. How will we top the Scrumptious trip next year?