On Tuesday, October 30th, we experienced "The Perfect Storm". No, I am not talking about Hurricane Sandy... or that George Clooney movie. I am talking about what happens when PilotHusband comes home from a red-eye flight from Brazil, commutes home, and finds an Elementary School Halloween Party going on in his house.
In my defense, "Pumpkinpalooza" was planned well in advance of his trip assignment. Things were set in motion. There was nothing I could do. At 3:15, 5 boys between the ages of 6 and 10, piled off the school bus with our son, for an afternoon of pumpkin painting, pumpkin carving, and massive sugar consumption.
When PilotHusband walked in the door, every square inch of floor space was covered by Legos and Transformers. Small painted pumpkins were happily grinning on the kitchen counter, and AngryPilotWife was, maniacally, carving very ornate Jack-o-Lanterns (think Jack Nicholson typing "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" in The Shining) . Phineas and Ferb cartoons blared from the television. There was Chaos in the Kingdom.
Like people who were told to evacuate, but chose to stay, PilotHusband tried to hang in there. He didn't recognize the danger. And like those people who were told to leave, but didn't; it didn't work out well for PilotHusband. He was bombarded by pumpkin pulp and seeds, covered in glitter and paint... he suffered puncture wounds on his feet from treading on small plastic toy pieces... a migraine headache... and the wrath of a pack of small children (like Lord of the Flies), when he tried to instill order.
By the end of the evening, each child, bearing 2 HUGE Jack-o-Lanterns, small painted pumpkins, and a bag of candy, departed our home... happy and joyful over the Halloween festivities. PilotHusband was not happy. He was short-tempered, ill-humored, and generally pissy. What else is new?
P.S. Please don't think that PilotHusband is not sympathetic to the storm victims. Why, just this afternoon, we were watching news coverage of the storm's aftermath. PilotHusband paused the broadcast, and focused on the image of a boat that landed on top of a house. I waited for him to express sympathy, or sadness over the destruction. Instead he said, "That boat has really nice lines. I think its a Larson". And I know he made a mental note to call the Larson Dealership tomorrow.
In my defense, "Pumpkinpalooza" was planned well in advance of his trip assignment. Things were set in motion. There was nothing I could do. At 3:15, 5 boys between the ages of 6 and 10, piled off the school bus with our son, for an afternoon of pumpkin painting, pumpkin carving, and massive sugar consumption.
When PilotHusband walked in the door, every square inch of floor space was covered by Legos and Transformers. Small painted pumpkins were happily grinning on the kitchen counter, and AngryPilotWife was, maniacally, carving very ornate Jack-o-Lanterns (think Jack Nicholson typing "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy" in The Shining) . Phineas and Ferb cartoons blared from the television. There was Chaos in the Kingdom.
Like people who were told to evacuate, but chose to stay, PilotHusband tried to hang in there. He didn't recognize the danger. And like those people who were told to leave, but didn't; it didn't work out well for PilotHusband. He was bombarded by pumpkin pulp and seeds, covered in glitter and paint... he suffered puncture wounds on his feet from treading on small plastic toy pieces... a migraine headache... and the wrath of a pack of small children (like Lord of the Flies), when he tried to instill order.
By the end of the evening, each child, bearing 2 HUGE Jack-o-Lanterns, small painted pumpkins, and a bag of candy, departed our home... happy and joyful over the Halloween festivities. PilotHusband was not happy. He was short-tempered, ill-humored, and generally pissy. What else is new?
P.S. Please don't think that PilotHusband is not sympathetic to the storm victims. Why, just this afternoon, we were watching news coverage of the storm's aftermath. PilotHusband paused the broadcast, and focused on the image of a boat that landed on top of a house. I waited for him to express sympathy, or sadness over the destruction. Instead he said, "That boat has really nice lines. I think its a Larson". And I know he made a mental note to call the Larson Dealership tomorrow.
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