The Return

So I had Stanley up bright and early because, despite my parents' doubts, I am able to operate a clock radio. I made him some toast, poured him a bowl of cereal and proceeded to pack his lunch.

That's right. I can operate a loaf of bread, too.

Anyway, I zipped up the bag, turned to hand it to Stanely, and found him, spoon half-way to his mouth, staring vaguely ahead of himself, and grinning maniacally.

"What are you all Lex Luthor about?"

"Nothing." He snickered and his smile grew wider.

"Obviously it's something. What are you grinning about?"

"It's those people on the West Coast," he said, barely able to contain his excitement.

"What about them?"

"They have no idea!"

Did I mention that my brother's a seven year old psycho?

"They have no idea about what, Stanley? Spit it out."

He was downright bursting.

"I've been up for half an hour, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

He covered his mouth like he was holding the word's biggest secret between his teeth.

"They're all still sleeping! They have no idea what I'm doing right now! I could be doing anything and they wouldn't even know! They wouldn't find out for hours! They're not even awake!"

I considered looking to the heavens for answers. Instead I said:

"Yeah? Well remember that in England, they're already having lunch and you just woke up. They've been doing things for hours while you were still asleep."

His jaw dropped, his spoon rattled in his bowl of Cheerios, and I handed him his lunch bag, satisfied.

School was ... well ... school. You know what's ridiculous about the inmates at The Slammer? It's the first day back after, what, fourteen days? and half of them are all running up and hugging one another or slamming chests or doing little slick handshakes like they're long lost buddies. Seriously, people. It's been 14 days, and most of you saw each other over the break, too.

In any case, my parents came home tonight. They got in the door around seven o'clock and by 7:15 they were on the phone to Allie at Pennington's.

Seriously? They came in and called Allie right away. While Stanley and I waited. Isn't that like calling for pizza when you're sitting at a table full of food?

Anyway, once they got around to us, we sat through a twenty-minute synopsis of their trip while Mom rubbed moisturizer into dad's lobster-red back. It was a little difficult to patch together their story, given the frequency with which they interrupted one another. Basically, it was sunshine, blah, blah, blah, water, blah, blah, blah, starfish, blah, blah, blah, the buffet, blah, blah, blah, and doomed waterskiing.

Then they broke out the gifts.

For Stanley, a stuffed shark toy and a starfish tie.

For Allie, a woven straw box and a sea-glass necklace.

And for me?

A keychain.

That's right.

A keychain.

With a palm tree on it.

That's how dull my parents think I am.

*sigh*

Nice to have you home.