My kids love hearing stories about the funny and embarrassing things they did when they were small. I think it's because the persons who were embarrassed were me and Marc so it's kind of like we are the punch line of every story, "...and then mom had to drag me away with her face flaming red, her head bowed in shame and a fierce vow never to let me out in public again. Mwah ha ha..." What's not to love?
It happened when we first moved to California. We came here for Marc's job and he had only been working at his new law firm for six months when our family was invited to a Super Bowl party at one of his colleague's home. A colleague who is, naturally, a big deal partner at the firm. In spite of his intimate knowledge of our family and how weird we are, Marc was very intent on all of us going and making a good impression. I know, right?
I'd like to insert an aside here where I wonder how some people get children who are quiet and docile, attached to their parents, and only interested in silent reading. Is it a levels of karma and reincarnation thing? And if it is, am I more evolved and the universe thinks I can handle crazy kids or am I less evolved and, well...?
But I digress.
So we all six go to this fancy party at this ginormous and beautiful house where the couple hosting have no children but instead a massive collection of original artwork including sculptural pieces grouped on low side tables scattered tastefully throughout the home, and outside (Heaven help me), a crystal clear pool with attached hot tub. In other words, hell.
I need to add that this was about seven years ago. Ellie was an adorable and incorrigible six year old.
So Jonathan and Ellie started playing by the water.
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| Here they are around that time. Cute little devils. |
At some point people tried using this social event filled with firm employees and clients to schmooze with us, clearly not understanding the eminent danger of embarrassing us that our children teetered on the precipice of, and in an attempt to be polite and perhaps a little shmoozy ourselves, we took our eyes off the children.
Cue horror music.
Our eyes, and everyone else's, were brought back to said children when Ellie started screaming as she wrestled her way out of the hot tub (where she'd been fully dunked)and began clawing at her brother like an angry wet cat. Do you have kids? Do you know how loud a mad six year old girl can be? It's loud. And not to be shushed or reasoned with.
Oh boy were we mortified! Marc basically scooped up Ellie and made a b-line for the car. I understood intuitively that I should grab the other kids and quickly follow. Sometimes our minds work as one. That is what the crucible of parenthood does to you.
And that, my friends, is how Ellie made a splash at the Super Bowl.
Fun fact: Marc was so upset about this that we didn't bring Ellie back to the annual Super Bowl party for three years. Each year she would be angry and insist that it wasn't her fault because Jonathan pushed her in, and each year we didn't believe her. But two years ago Jonathan decided that the statute of limitations was up on punishment for past crimes and admitted that he HAD pushed her into the hot tub.
Sheesh.
This year Ellie came with us as her sweet and socially amazing self. In fact, I was able to sit and visit with friends while she worked the party with her dad, shmoozing like a pro.
