24 November 2012

Thanksgiving Terror

So, everyone except the kids and I were out shopping, taking advantage of the early shopping deals on the night of Thanksgiving.

I figured I was in for a pleasantly quiet night, seeing as how both kids were asleep, everyone else was gone and I was happily ensconced in front of the TV, slowly recovering from the nearly overwhelming amount of excellent fare in which I had been indulging all day.

To aid in my recovery, I decided to play a little Wii tennis, but I soon tired. After all, Mom makes great candied sweet potatoes and I had very nearly eaten my weight in them.

So I turned off the Wii and decided on a quick potty break. By the way, how do you know a 40 year old man has children under five? He says he's taking a potty break.

So anyway, I took my potty break and walked out of the bathroom - and then everything went crazy.

I suddenly found myself under attack! In my In-Laws home! Hoodlums were flying around the room, screaming and howling and generally acting like some insane group of howler monkeys.

It was horrifying.

My own safety was disregarded - I was expendable. But I had SLEEPING babies!! Right in the next room. Something had to be done. I would sacrifice myself, if necessary, to keep those little ones peacefully slumbering.

So I faced the band of hooligans and tried to reason with them. I tempted them with loot. I begged them to take their chaos elsewhere. But to no avail. The attack simply intensified.

That's when I heard the boy scream. I quickly left the gang in my wake as I ran to my son. I vaguely remember the violent din behind me dying down. Perhaps the hooligans had run off in search of easier pickings. I calmed my son and soothed him to sleep. I blessed him and tucked him in. I checked on my daughter, returning Snuggle Elephant to her proper place on the pillow, and quietly slipped out of the room.

Whereupon I was once again immediately beset by the returned terrorists. They were even more violent than before. This time I attempted to take the battle to them by a quick flanking maneuver around the sofa. Ah, but they were fleet of foot. They outpaced me and their cacophony reached unheard of heights.

And that's when my son awoke the second time.

Again I retreated from the field of battle. The boy must be quickly soothed before he becomes so wound up he'll never go back to sleep, and possibly wake his sister. This had to be avoided at all costs. After five minutes sleep, the girl can function with incredible hyperactivity for at least another eight hours. She must NOT be disturbed!

The boy soothed, and the girl still blissfully dreaming, I quietly tiptoed from their room. Only to be met, you guessed it, by the now familiar band of hoodlums.

By now, I was recognizing a pattern, so I quickly retreated to my nearby bedroom, and was pleased to hear them once again stealthily sneak off. To further investigate, I began to slowly open my door, to once again be met by raucous ranting and raving, cursing and threatening, bullying and bravado.

This is when it dawned on me.

I was being held hostage. A hostage! On Thanksgiving, no less!

I realized I had to do something soon. I had to call the Hostage Rescue Team. I didn't want to. I knew it could end badly, but it had to end. I made the call.

Soon Dad arrived to end my plight. Which was only fitting since it had been his job to secure the premises before he left. Unfortunately, by the time he arrived, the boy had been woken another three times and I was exhausted. But he managed to capture all three of the criminals and haul them off to serve their justly deserved time, sitting in a cold car, forced to wait for hours on end for two excited women to finish shopping. They deserved it, the little criminals.

The two Bischons I could understand - they're crazy. But my own Furball! Oh the agony of betrayal! For hours on end, I had been held hostage - by lap dogs.

And Dad, well I guarantee next year he'll lock the little critters up before he heads out for driving duty. 'Cuz one of his own precious little furry ones peed right in Dad's lap. I guess the ornery little critter wanted to warm up.

I know Dad did.