There was the post about Tornado E becoming a budding Casanova. It was pushed aside for . . .
There was the post of Tornado E shaving his head. It was pushed aside for . . .
There was the post where I nearly preformed an exorcism on Tornado E this morning. It was pushed aside for . . .
I was outside holding Tornado A, talking with my 80 year-old, retired airforce officer neighbor, when Tornado S came prancing out of the house, down the drive-way in socks and his Ghostbuster t-shirt that he had pulled his arms inside the shirt.
Me: Tornado S. Go inside and put on your pants.
Tornado S: I don’t know where they are! They’re lost! Forever!
The neighbor (chuckling): You must have to do a million things a minute, Fae.
Me: Yes. Well, I’ve got to get Him inside. Have a good afternoon.
The neighbor: You too, dear.
I walked down the driveway to where Tornado S was dancing. I took his hand and led him up the drive way.
Me: Rules are rules, dude. You are direct violation of Penis Rule #3. No running outside nude.
Tornado S: I thought that was Rule #2.
Me: No, that is keep your hands to yourself and don’t touch other people’s privates. (Which is violated often in this household.)
I walked into the house, released Tornado S, placed Tornado A down with some toys, went and found some new underwear for Tornado S. I returned to the room, just in time to see Tornado S sprinting out the door to the garage. I dropped the underwear and strolled after Tornado S because surely he’ll stop at the end of the driveway.
I walk out of the garage to see Tornado S sprinting down the street.
I couldn’t call out. I couldn’t yell his name. I couldn’t command him to stop, to come back. I couldn’t use The Voice.
Because if I opened my mouth, I would have doubled over in laughter.
As it was, little bits of laughter were escaping my tightly closed lips. I started to walk because I couldn’t run with laughter bubbling inside me.
Of course when he was three houses down, I realized I had to kick it into high gear. I ran at full speed after the little streaker. I wondered when was the last time I ran at full speed and realized it was nice to stretch my muscles. Then I passed Tornado S, turned around, scooped him up, threw him over my shoulder. I walked home.
The neighbor: (laughing) Fae, my dear, I think the young man is an exhibitionist.
Me: Unfortunately, all my boys are.
At least it makes life more entertaining.