G. T. L. Baby! Grandma Tantrum Luvs/Leapster.
My day off started out as uneventful. The weather was sticky and my mood was plummeting. Brian came up with a cure. After GTL, he packed up Grouchi (Amalia), Maxy C (Maxwell) and The Agitation (Simon) for a trip the Jersey Shore. Since Seaside Heights is totally 2009, and not less than an hour away, Ocean City became our destination. America’s Greatest Family Resort. I questioned the validity of this title, but it’s Google confirmed.
As soon as we entered Gillian’s Wonderland Pier, Maxy C began hitting the bottle. I pleaded with him to pace himself, but he refused and downed 6 ounces in mere minutes. I’m concerned that this kid may have drinking problem. The Agitator also has substance issues. He would have been all juiced up hadn’t I substituted prune juice instead of his usual variety.
Maxy C insisted on riding the Merry Go Round. This enabled him a 360 view of the surrounding grenades. He didn’t appear to fancy any of the babes. Instead, he opted to make out with the belt that was strapped around his belly. His facial expression suggested that he wanted to kick all the girls off the ride and say, “You don’t belong here. You don’t even look Irish.” However, it is difficult to figure out what exactly goes through this boy’s head. He doesn’t say much. Infact, he doesn’t talk at all.
During this time, Grouchi had isolated herself along the perimeter, with earbuds in each ear, and mumbled, “I hate the sun. I don’t like going places.”
When the ride ended, my husband took the baby. While putting The Agitation on another age appropriate amusement, I heard Brian call out, “Lonna. Help. Please.” Maxwell’s products of intoxication became evident…all over Brian’s shirt. Maxy C + a blast in a glass (bottle) + centrifugal force = projectile, shirt drenching, gag-producing, vomit. I’ve decided not to post the corresponding pictures.
The boys became bored with going around in circles (the boats, the firetrucks, the jeeps, the Nascars), so we relocated the party to another location…but not before Maxy C spewed on my dress. Having this kid makes me sympathise with every person in the front row at all of Gwar’s concerts.
On the way, we passed a bank with a time and temperature. 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Grouchi grouched out, “Sure Mom. Lets go to the boardwalk when it’s 104. Brilliant.”
My response? “Sure Mali. Lets go to the boardwalk in black jeans and knee high Converse when it’s 104. Brilliant.”
Upon setting foot in Club Moe’s (Moe’s Southwestern Grill), two blooming Elin Norgren clones (ages 5-7) began making moves on both of my boys. Cougars are in, so I figured they thought they had a chance. Really, can any one blame them?
Elin #1: What’s your name?
The Agitation: Simon.
Elin #2: His name is Frank.
The Agitation: Your name is Bookipootchi.
Elin #2: His name is Hamburger.
The Agitation: My name is Simon.
Elin #1: No. Your name is Teacher.
Elin #2: His name is Abby.
The Agitation: (blushing) No. My name is Simon.
Elin #2: (to Elin #1) Which one do you think is handsome?
Elin #1: I think Simon is.
Elin #2: But Maxwell is cuter.
Elin #1: But Maxwell’s a baby.
Elin #2: Simon is kind of hot…
Elin #1: (locking her blue eyes directly with the Agitation’s) I don’t like you. (Whisper) That means that I really do.
Later, Elin#1 used the same line on my husband! Didn’t she notice the titanium band strangling the fourth finger on his left hand? What ever happened to the girl rule?
The chicks didn’t exchange numbers with any of my men.
We went home to tuck the boys in, but Maxy C had to get one more bottle in before the night was over. Then, it was G. T. V. D. P. baby! Grandma’s Tantrum Vomit in Daddy’s Pocket.
I would like to thank Amalia for helping me recall the conversation at Club Moe’s. And for not literally biting my head off.
“You should click this link if you enjoy my wife’s blog. Even if you don’t enjoy it, you should click it. A little charity never hurt anyone. Except that Kony documentarian. He went apesh*t but we shouldn’t blame it on charity. I think he just came into money and lost it.” ~Brian Cottrell-Thompson