I have survived an event filled weekend with an old set of dear family friends. They are kind, generous to a flaw, gracious, loving folks. They planned to arrive in my fair city to attend a reunion and visit with us which was great. They are wonderful people. Unfortunately they have a child, a demon seed, the spawn of the devil, Beelzebub, Jr. We call him Dylan.
Dylan is a the most hyper-active child imaginable. He is genius, having learned to read at 2. He was talking at 6 months and starting getting in trouble around 3 days old. Not bad trouble mind you, just enough to make him terribly difficult. Even for the hard core, you can bust a gut laughing. My son lives vicariously through Dylan as he is too well-behaved to ever get involved in any of this stuff.
Dylan is a master of escape. It first started when we are Six Flags and the five year old Dylan turned up missing. We noticed him on the railroad tracks a few seconds later. The grounds are chained off. He should not have been able to do it, but there he was walking on the tracks and the train would be coming any second. Sonia and I had to think fast. I abandoned my four year old, who stood quietly watching the action. He was used to it by now. We had to save her son. I was trying to push her over a wall to get to him. It was reminiscent of Lucy and Ethel trying to get over a wall. I boosted Sonia up and then pushed her rear to get her over. When she was at the top of the wall, Security arrived saying she could not do it. I was screaming her kid is on the tracks. Security saw what was happening and quickly unlocked the gates. I left Donna alone sitting on the wall like Humpty Dumpty and ran furiously for Dylan. I yanked him out of the way a few seconds before the train got him.
When we all went to Disneyworld together, we had settled down for a quick lunch. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. Once again he was missing in action. He managed to get into a ride and was watching from the sides waving at people and throwing french fries. He missed lunch. We were not asked to leave Disneyworld but security was not impressed. We were warned.
Then there was the fire alarm incident at the airport. Oh yes, he pulled the alarm. Again security showed up. He was a small 6 year old, and they thought he was three. His mother explained that he did not know what he was doing. He knew. This kid could read at two. He wanted to see a little action.
I have known this kid his most of his life and it has been a wild thirteen years. I knew he was trouble when he was kicked out of preschool for using ketchup and mustard to finger paint. His screamed when they took away his yellow paint (mustard)and slapped the teacher with his ketchup, mustard, relish hands.
No one was sure where he obtained the condiments. It seems he has been into condiment abuse his entire life. He once skated across a marble floor on Log Cabin syrup. There was something ironically poetic about that.
Recently we went out to eat at fast food. Nice restaurants are out since his family has been banned from most of them. Dylan is now 15 and his maturity level will never match his IQ. Ordering food was a major disaster. He started by asking the man behind the counter how much money he made. We explained that he should not ask personal questions. He then asked if he was married and had a house. The man answered no. I tried to rush him up to stop the questions. "I suppose you are not married because you cannot support anyone off what they pay you here." I reminded him again to please place his order. We decided it would be better to take out the food as the staff was getting annoyed with Dylan. I was paying and chatting away with his parents at the counter. Dylan had his food so what could go wrong, right? Condiment abuse.
My husband ran to get control of the situations. Dylan had already bagged up a full sack of ketchup, mustard, Splenda, sugar, forks, creamer, straws, several sauces and and dips. We politely grabbed the kids' food and left. Everyone was bitching at Dylan all the way home over his grabbiness to no avail. We had no idea how much loot he garnered in the condiment section as we left the scene of the crime in a hurry. We were just scrambling to get out of there without anyone being in trouble. When we arrived home, he dumped his bounty on the cabinet. There must have been 300 packets of assorted condiments. He proudly displayed his loot with the pride of a six year old who had been out trick or treating all evening for condiments. His parents were shocked; we were laughing; and my son (the same age) was beside himself giggling. Needless to say, not one of us can go there again.
By the time the weekend was over, we did well. No one had any serious injuries. My son was hit in the face with a baseball and a tooth was loose but no major injury. No murder or child abuse charges had been filed. I had jelly all over the cabinet where he tried to make a PB&J sandwich while the adults were in the living room. A cabinet is easily cleaned. My house was trashed but it will clean up in a week or less. I have only a few hairs left as I pulled most of them out , but hey, they'll grow back. We are all frazzled but a few calm days will fix that too. At the end of the weekend, I have a lifetime supply of condiments which I suppose is a good thing. So if anyone needs any ketchup, mustard, honey mustard sauce, honey, barbecue sauce, straws, sugar, Splenda, salt or pepper, I have plenty of packets to share.
His mother and I have now become charter members for "Moms who Drink and Swear."
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