Summer is here with a hot, blistering vengeance. This means one thing:
My boys love them. It’s a good thing we buy the cheap, huge bags because our neighbor kids love Popsicles, too. One time I came home to find my neighbor’s daughter had gotten into our freezer, left the door open, and thus there was a melted bag of Popsicles all over my floor. I would say that 90% of the time my kids get a Popsicle, so do the neighbor kids. They play together a lot and I was raised that it is rude to eat treats in front of other people without offering to share.
That stated, I am still not really sure when or how exactly it became my obligation to be the Popsicle fairy of the neighborhood, but that is exactly what I am. Although, I doubt that fairies of any sort would be caught dead wearing a wife beater, skeezy ponytail, and shorts that say “Butt Quack”. In my defense, I only wear them as pajamas to bed. However, to counter my own defense, it’s now 11:30 and I AM STILL IN THEM.
Do you know the worst thing about being the Popsicle Fairy??? POPSICLE STICKS.
They are the bane of my existence some days. I have found Popsicle sticks suck to my floors, counters, mirrors, in closets, under couch cushions and a pile of about 150 under the table between my two couches that is the boy’s unofficial “Hide out”.
I got sick to death of it. Thus, we made a new rule. You can only have a Popsicle if you eat it outside. It worked, except: I found wrappers in my flowerbeds, sticks in the grass, on the trampoline, on the sidewalks and creating freaking ant colonies all around my porch.
Thus, there is now an addendum to aforementioned rule:
You can only have a Popsicle if, and only if, you eat the Popsicle outside and then immediately THROW YOUR STICK AND WRAPPER AWAY IN THE GARBAGE.
When my son, James, asked if he could have a Popsicle today, I reminded him of the rules and sent him off. About an hour later he came back in, radiating triumph.
“Mom? WHY on earth would you throw a useful Popsicle stick when you can make THIS! A handy-dandy, trusty knife!?”
I have to admit, this is pretty cool. He figured it out all by himself and the thing opens and closes very nicely. The “Blade” even has a grip.
Not bad, eh? This kinda makes up for the fact that I woke up this morning to this statement:
“Mom? There are two HUMUNGEOUS spiders in the bathroom!!! I thought about killing it but I’m too scared. I know you hate spiders but I need you to kill it because I’m not a son that has “The spider killing gene”. You just didn’t luck out in that department, mom. Sorry.”
I have to go. It’s time for the annual call to the exterminator to come and get the house sprayed for HOBO SPIDERS.