My circus....my monkeys

For today’s Quarantine Report, I’ve selected a few choice tidbits from the Male Trio’s highlight reel--focusing on some of the preposterous ways they’ve been lightening the mood and dispersing the gloom around here…simply by being their (mostly lovable) goofy selves.

For example, now that the college kid is home from SC and back with us 24/7, Riley has volunteered himself as an...interactive alarm clock, if you will. You see, left to his own devices, and with remote learning mostly being “on your own time”, Derek defaults to getting out of bed somewhere in the neighborhood of 11:30…or so. On the other hand, the high schooler—who typically rises before 6 to commence his first workout of the day--deems this unacceptable behavior which must be fixed...by whatever means necessary.

Thus the following ritual has slowly been honed over the past month, until it’s become the standard by which you can set your watch: no later than 10:45, Riley barrels through his brother’s bedroom door, bellows a greeting (more Drill Sergeant “rise and shine you lazy slug” than friendly “good morning wake-up call”), and flings open the curtains to brighten Derek’s hibernation cave. Oh, and if these measures don’t provoke enough of a response to satisfy him, Riley will even resort to the drastic extra step of yanking off Derek’s covers. So to sum up: he’s startled out of sleep…suddenly chilly…blinded by the unexpected burst of light flooding his space…and insulted, on top of all the other indignities.

Now, you might think being roughly dragged from slumber like this would spark some kind of vicious (and perhaps deserved) retaliation…and in most cases, it probably would. (Ahem…like ME, for instance. If anyone ever tried that s…tuff, consequences would be swift and merciless. Just sayin’…) But Derek…just blinks sleepily, yawns, stretches, and starts talking to his sibling, as though this were a completely natural way to kick off one’s day. (Once again, thank all the stars above for my one super-laid-back child!) Then, once he feels that Derek’s thoroughly roused enough to leave his cozy lair, Riley returns to his own activities and allows him to carry on in peace.

Meanwhile, in my “office”, which happens to be situated right next door to all the… hullabaloo…I glance at the clock and go, “Huh. It’s already that time again? Alrighty, then--seems like a good point to step away from the computer and take a quick coffee break.” I’m telling you, it’s that predictable…and if you really think about it, a public service as well! (Not entirely sure Derek would see it that way, but whatever…)

If I’m being honest, many of the boys’ exchanges these days involve some level of good-natured taunting—even if they don’t usually start out that way. Such as the other day, when they were in the kitchen chatting with one another while Derek foraged for a nosh (every 2 hours, also something you could set your watch by, if you were so inclined). In the middle of the conversation, Derek jokingly lobbed a pretzel rod over to Riley. Since he hadn’t requested this and didn’t want it, Riley gently tossed it back. But rather than just, you know, catching it and either eating it or replacing it in the container, Derek opted to try batting it sideways into the sink instead.

Well…you can only imagine how spectacularly this FAILED…resulting in an impressive explosion of crumbs and shattered pieces that spread and landed all over the floor.

Of course, the dorkasauruses instantly erupted into hysterical laughter. After my initial shock in which I stood paralyzed gaping at the…shrapnel…I marched over, snatched the bin of pretzels away from Derek, firmly replaced the lid, stowed it in the pantry…and ordered him to his room, AFTER he picked up each and every stray bit of food from his mess. (Hey, if you’re gonna impersonate a 4-year old…)

He at least had the grace to hang his head and attempt to appear contrite—although the smirk he couldn’t quite wipe off his face somewhat negated the effect. However, as soon as I turned my back he tried to fake-stealthily sneak a few more, to take upstairs with him during his banishment. When called out, he protested that he needed the…pocket pretzels*…to get him through. (*NOT. A. THING.) I wasn’t going to permit the crumbly snack in his carpeted domicile anyway, but this became an absolute taboo when, as Derek was passing his sibling to make his way to his time-out, Riley shot his hand out to smack him...and in a stunning display of pinpoint accuracy...scored a direct hit on the hidden treats... thereby reducing his not-so-secret stash to powder. (And to top it all off, Husband wandered in after hearing the uproar, settled himself against the counter and brightly inquired, “Ooh, family meeting? Did I miss anything?” Siiiighhhh….Bless. Their. Hearts…)

That brings us to what we’re going to call the Great Breakfast Debate of 2020. For background, 

Derek has been eating Dinosaur Egg oatmeal every morning for years.  (I know, I know, 20-going-on-toddler. What can I say? It makes him happy…) However, I recently noticed that he wasn’t going through his current box very quickly, so I asked if he wanted me to get more. He considered for a second, then replied, “Nah, I need to branch out.” So when he was picking up a few things at the store for us, he got himself some frozen waffles.

When he was almost done with these, I offered to replenish his supply, but asked if he’d mind the multigrain version, rather than the less nutritious kind he’d bought. He gave me a slight side-eye and huffed, “Ugh. You’re gonna make me eat healthy?” Then his expression took on a sly cast as he added, “Okay, then…can you also get me Nutella?”

Mind you, this is by far not a new debate, and he’s well aware of why I stopped purchasing the hazelnut spread a looong time ago: A) because it’s a sugar-bomb and B) um…I was incapable of staying away from it when we kept it within reach. So I groaned inwardly at the potential impending controversy, but countered with what I thought was a perfectly reasonable alternative, “How about I find you some chocolate…peanut butter?” Frankly, he probably recognized that was the best he was going to get out of me, because he considered only a beat before agreeing to the terms. (And when he tasted what I purchased for him, he proclaimed it a worthy substitute…even if not a...blood-glucose-spiking thrill ride. [I'm paraphrasing, obviously.] So…we’ll call that a Win?)

This was not the end of the story, though—the next thing I knew, Husband had jumped feet-first into the…Battle of the Morning Meal. I entered the kitchen one afternoon unprepared for the 2-pronged assault led by Derek, who cheerfully decreed that he and his father “wanted control of the cereal decision.” Given the fact that I do approximately, oh, 98% of the grocery shopping for our little band of….well, mostly ravenous dudes…I didn’t even pause before shooting back, “Fine! You’re welcome to be in charge of everything you guys eat; I couldn’t care less!” (Hmm...overreaction? Yeeeaahh…perhaps the ongoing pandemic is taking more of a toll on me than I realized…deep breaths in and out…phewwwww….)

This seemed to alarm Derek, who threw up his hands in a placating gesture and rapidly backpedaled, “Hey, whoa, let’s not get too crazy there. We’d just like some sweeter kinds mixed in once in a while.” When I turned to glare at him he grinned, spread his arms wide apart and added, “You know, a big old box of…Crunch Berries!” He knew this would push my buttons, which of course is exactly why he said it, but I couldn’t help myself from snapping, “Aaargh! So what you’re really telling me is that you want JUNK first thing in the day?”

Fortunately Husband spoke up at that point, inserting his Voice of Reason in a calming fashion, “All we’re saying is that we’d like an adjustment on the…fiber-to-flavor ratio!” Oh. Good. Grief. It’s a losing campaign here, folks: either they’re being over-the-top ridiculous…or they wield logic and science at me. Please send help ASAP…preferably in the form of another X-chromosome to join my Girl Squad! (Anyway, they haven’t been out scouting yet, so I don’t know what they’re going to come up with; but as promised, I’ve washed my hands [Ha! Sorry...] of the whole affair. So there!)

And finally, speaking of absurdity: sometime this past week Riley wandered into the kitchen and blurted, “Guess who just changed their sheets for the first time in 2 months?” With the smuggest possible expression, he dramatically used both thumbs to point at himself and answered his own rhetorical question, “THIS guy!” Which naturally cracked his brother up…and caused me to drop my forehead into my hands…as I’m sure he 100% anticipated and intended.

So in conclusion…when this whole lockdown-thingie eases, and it’s safe to resume some semblance of our previous lifestyle, I’m gonna need a different kind of recovery…one in which I self-isolate for a couple of days…ALONE. Maybe a solitary room…at a spa somewhere…for a weekend. (Right, not realistic. How about a shed in the back yard? I’d totally settle for that…) For now, I’ll continue my role as moderator of (faux) adolescent squabbles…overseer of culinary choices…and general wrangler of Team WestEnders. Yep...I’m gonna need a NAP! (Aaannd maybe some of Derek’s special cocoa/peanut butter combo….shhhhh! Let’s just keep that between us, ‘kay? Thankyouverymuch…)