Pippi Strikes Again!
“Your son is up to something.”
(These were never good words to hear. The emphasis was on “your,” which was never a good sign, especially when you were sitting in a bath, unable to stop anything he was about to do.)
“Why do you say that?” I asked Mr. Right.
“Well, he’s just snuck up and shut our bedroom door.”
Mr. Right was right. Our son, indeed, was up to something. Come to find out, it wasn’t just our son; our daughter was in on it, too.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Umm, Dad,” our daughter said, “you, uh, need to, uh, take a shower.” (Mr. Right smelled fine to me.)
“What? Why do you want me to take a shower?” replied Mr. Right.
“Umm, because, umm” (pause while thinking) “because you’re, uh, stinky. (Giggling ensued.) Yep, you need to take a shower because you are stinky,” answered the girl.
Discussion followed between Mr. Right and daughter. Mr. Right and I rolled our eyes. They were definitely up to something.
I got out and attempted to find out what was really going on while Mr. Right hid out in the bedroom.
“Mom! You can’t be out here. You are supposed to be in the bath!” declared the daughter.
“But I’m not stinky, so I can come out. What are you doing?” said I.
Daughter stared at me, thought about whether or not I could be entrusted with their secret, smiled and then replied, “Okay, but you can’t tell Dad! Come into my room.”
I walked into her room to find my son drawing “the Master Plan.” (To what, I had yet to determine, but he immediately declared that he was the captain. To which daughter emphatically retorted that she was the captain. To which Mom responded that they could both be the captain so knock it off! It actually worked.)
“The Master Plan” consisted of a door, some objects placed on top of the door, and a dad to walk through the door, thereby pulling a fast one on said dad when he opened the door.
Not a bad plan, all in all. I now was glad that they pick their dad on whom to pull this trick.
My daughter said, “I thought about using my books at first, but that might hurt when they fall. So I am just going to use this art supplies instead.” (Art supplies were fine, but container holding said supplies would hurt like the dickens if it fell on proposed dad’s head. I could see it was time to place the children under my tutelage on the art of pranking.)
While the five year old was still drawing what could be the most detailed prank plan ever known to man, I, like any great teacher, guided my daughter through the finer points of booby-trapping the door. I placed everything on top, told her how it would work and asked her to step back to taste the fruits of our labor. She must have missed the part where I said step back and watch because she went straight to the door and opened it to go to get the water spray bottle to spray at her dad when he walked into the trap.
At least she now knew it would work.
After repeating the process all over again (with a stronger emphasis on stepping back, sitting on the bed and not going anywhere near the door), she and her brother, who was still drawing the plans of how everything should be done, called to their dad to come into the room.
Plan worked great. Items fell on dad. Dad looked surprised. Kids laughed their heads off at all their ingenuity (with a slight nod to mom) and talked about the look on dad’s face. A good time was had by all.
As I was leaving the room, the boy, whispering as only a five year old can (which meant that our neighbor down the street heard every word), said, “Dad, now let’s play a trick on Mom!”
Mom, with visions of an evening of mischief in the works, suddenly realized where all this unexpected form of play had came from… They just pulled a Pippi Longstocking trick (except she used paint, thank goodness we didn’t have any of that around)! And I helped!
And some idiot said kids weren’t influenced by what they saw on TV.
I was planning on introducing them to Home Alone this year… I may rethink that one now… Miracle on 34th Street might work,except the girl wishes for a baby sibling, and I don’t even want to start them on that road…
(These were never good words to hear. The emphasis was on “your,” which was never a good sign, especially when you were sitting in a bath, unable to stop anything he was about to do.)
“Why do you say that?” I asked Mr. Right.
“Well, he’s just snuck up and shut our bedroom door.”
Mr. Right was right. Our son, indeed, was up to something. Come to find out, it wasn’t just our son; our daughter was in on it, too.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Umm, Dad,” our daughter said, “you, uh, need to, uh, take a shower.” (Mr. Right smelled fine to me.)
“What? Why do you want me to take a shower?” replied Mr. Right.
“Umm, because, umm” (pause while thinking) “because you’re, uh, stinky. (Giggling ensued.) Yep, you need to take a shower because you are stinky,” answered the girl.
Discussion followed between Mr. Right and daughter. Mr. Right and I rolled our eyes. They were definitely up to something.
I got out and attempted to find out what was really going on while Mr. Right hid out in the bedroom.
“Mom! You can’t be out here. You are supposed to be in the bath!” declared the daughter.
“But I’m not stinky, so I can come out. What are you doing?” said I.
Daughter stared at me, thought about whether or not I could be entrusted with their secret, smiled and then replied, “Okay, but you can’t tell Dad! Come into my room.”
I walked into her room to find my son drawing “the Master Plan.” (To what, I had yet to determine, but he immediately declared that he was the captain. To which daughter emphatically retorted that she was the captain. To which Mom responded that they could both be the captain so knock it off! It actually worked.)
“The Master Plan” consisted of a door, some objects placed on top of the door, and a dad to walk through the door, thereby pulling a fast one on said dad when he opened the door.
Not a bad plan, all in all. I now was glad that they pick their dad on whom to pull this trick.
My daughter said, “I thought about using my books at first, but that might hurt when they fall. So I am just going to use this art supplies instead.” (Art supplies were fine, but container holding said supplies would hurt like the dickens if it fell on proposed dad’s head. I could see it was time to place the children under my tutelage on the art of pranking.)
While the five year old was still drawing what could be the most detailed prank plan ever known to man, I, like any great teacher, guided my daughter through the finer points of booby-trapping the door. I placed everything on top, told her how it would work and asked her to step back to taste the fruits of our labor. She must have missed the part where I said step back and watch because she went straight to the door and opened it to go to get the water spray bottle to spray at her dad when he walked into the trap.
At least she now knew it would work.
After repeating the process all over again (with a stronger emphasis on stepping back, sitting on the bed and not going anywhere near the door), she and her brother, who was still drawing the plans of how everything should be done, called to their dad to come into the room.
Plan worked great. Items fell on dad. Dad looked surprised. Kids laughed their heads off at all their ingenuity (with a slight nod to mom) and talked about the look on dad’s face. A good time was had by all.
As I was leaving the room, the boy, whispering as only a five year old can (which meant that our neighbor down the street heard every word), said, “Dad, now let’s play a trick on Mom!”
Mom, with visions of an evening of mischief in the works, suddenly realized where all this unexpected form of play had came from… They just pulled a Pippi Longstocking trick (except she used paint, thank goodness we didn’t have any of that around)! And I helped!
And some idiot said kids weren’t influenced by what they saw on TV.
I was planning on introducing them to Home Alone this year… I may rethink that one now… Miracle on 34th Street might work,except the girl wishes for a baby sibling, and I don’t even want to start them on that road…
Labels: Family
posted by Shalee at 12:21 PM
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