FringeMan and I played a terrible little trick on my son the other day. Remember when we almost got food poisoning from the questionable Mexican restaurant? Well, after our dinner, we ran into Rite Aid so I could pick up a bottle of Benadryl. I have histamines that think they are superheros. Zyrtec and Singulair in the morning are not strong enough to stop them from causing chaos in my body, I have to throw a few Bendaryl into the mix just for fun.
As I strolled through the aisles, I spotted a end-cap full of cars. Jokingly I said, “We should pick one of these up for FringeBoy and tell him we bought him a car.”
You see, my twelve year-old son is currently obsessed with getting an old car to fix up. He wants it ready and waiting for when he turns sixteen, the legal driving age in New York. He’s even checked Craigslist for good deals.
He has NO money.
“Oh, ya, we have to do this.” My husband said. “This is the exact kind of car he wants.”
The poor thing. You should have seen his face light up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve when FringeMan exclaimed, “We found you a car!” I think we broke his heart a little.
Now before you go and get too teary-eyed, he already got even with me. Two nights ago I was laying on the couch watching a documentary with FringeMan when I just had to go to sleep. It was the Benadryl fighting the super-hero histamine.
I headed off to bed, but with one pit-stop. You guessed it – the bathroom.
When I flipped on the light switch and lifted the lid of the toilet seat, my heart jumped into my throat and I let out a scream. There was an unsightly little black mouse sitting right on the seat. I about died.
We are even!
To tell you the truth, I think I may just be a teensy-bit behind him. No fears. I’ll get him when he least suspects it.