We are on week two of excessively high temperatures…like triple digits until bedtime kind-of-heat. In fact, my car registered 111 degrees when I left my office today, and the air conditioner didn’t put a dent in that whatsoever. By the time I got home, I was a sweaty, snarly mess.
Me and Summer are definitely not friends anymore. I think we need time apart. I hate to say it, Summer, but I’m just not that into you.
The heat itself is bad enough…everyone has shorter tempers, cranky dispositions and the threat of budget-killing electric bills. However, I’ve got a triple threat: two active boys and a persistent heat advisory that makes it too hot for them to play outside.
Do you know what happens when energetic boys are confined to the house???
Other than the expected bickering, fighting and destructive mayhem, my boys also lose all common sense when they have too much energy and not enough diversions. For example, last week, my youngest decided to make a “feelings book.” What on earth is that, you ask? Think Pat the Bunny. He wanted to create a booklet of items with various textures, for whatever random reason that existed in his six year-old mind; he planned to create this book by gluing samples of found objects into an old notebook. Fine, whatever. If the kid wants to glue random trash and scraps to paper, I’m all for it if it buys me ten minutes of peace.
Yep, I am a foolish, foolish woman.
So, my youngest child presents my husband with his “feelings book,” and as my husband flips through this latest creation, he realizes that something is amiss. Because the “scraps” the heathens used to make this book look eerily familiar.
The frickity-fraking kids decided that they wanted all their favorite blankets represented in the aforementioned “feelings book,” so they cut samples out of every dang blanket they have. Then, they glued these samples into their raggedy notebook, and presented the finished product with pride to their father.
About ten minutes later, I get a phone call.
“Now, honey…don’t freak out…”
*insert two solid minutes of blistering profanity*
Lesson learned; when the heat confines the heathens to house for too long, disaster inevitably follows. Never assume that common sense will prevail when heat-induced boredom sets in.
In the meantime, no one thought to tell Granny about this incident, so she assumed that my washer or dryer began to randomly eat blankets. Given that I’ve recently dropped a significant chunk of change on a new oven and a broken dishwasher, poor Granny spent the week agonizing on how to tell me about this potential new appliance repair problem.
I think exasperation may be permanently stamped onto my face.