We’re at Nanci’s for our bi-weekly supper and 4 or 8 bottles of wine. Her husband, Renaud is off playing hockey or having an affair or something equally as macho and the kids are bouncing off the walls. Mine are teenagers but no less intrusive than the 3 and 5 year olds who are wielding swords and dancing around in nothing but knight helmets and batman capes.
“show me your boobs” dares Nanci’s 5 year old son.
“Uh… I don’t think so buddy.” responds my oldest daughter
“Are you familiar with what a boy’s penis looks like?” He counter-responds (in French)
“Mom?…help?….please?” She pleads with me.
“Well? Are you?”
“MOM!”
We were trying to discuss our futures, our career options, mortgages and co-op housing but we rarely get a whole sentence out without an interruption or getting walloped in the head by a stuffed animal or a book or something.
“BOUNCE! BOUNCE! BOUNCE!” a kid in Spiderman underwear and a kitten mask crashes into Nanci nearly poking her eye out with a plastic dragon.
Nanci: “What are you doing?!?”
Kid: “BOUNCING!” accompanied by look of disbelief at his mother’s apparent ignorance.
Nanci: “Well do it somewhere else! You almost spilled my wine!”
Finally the little ones are content upstairs, watching a movie or raiding the medicine cabinet.
Nanci: “So did you talk to your therapist about your…” The eyes of 3 teenage girls are fixed intently on us.
Me: “Girls be sweethearts and go in the other room so auntie Nanci and I can talk about anal sex would you?”
“EEWW MOM!” two leave…one sinks further into her chair.
“What?”
“Get out! We want to talk.”
“So talk!”
“GO!”
She leaves.
Nanci: “Seriously, did you ask your therapist if…”
“BOUNCE! BOUNCE! BOUNCE!”
Nanci: “OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!!”
We considered letting her husband come home to 5 abandoned children and a “gone to Mexico” note but we couldn’t find his credit card anywhere.