I don't remember giving my kids a mogwai for Christmas. And yet...last night my house seemed to be crawling with gremlins. One rode Jay's skateboard into the pole in the basement. Another spilled soda in the dining room. One bought a laser pen into the movie theater....and another laughed hysterically while telling inappropriate jokes. And I'm not sure, but judging by the waffles, syrup and Doritos all over the counter...I'm pretty sure they ate after midnight.
I thought taking care of twin babies and a toddler was bad. This is nothing compared to supervising six teenage boys (and one preteen girl) overnight. Jay's birthday was quite the event. Bruce took them to go see "Paul Blart: Mall Cop." Which, I guess, went fairly well (despite the laser pen and making fun of theater employees...same kid, incidentally.) Apparently, the most memorable part of the movie for the kids, we found out later, was a point in the movie where the theater was quiet and my husband reacted to the scene by saying, "Damn!" Go figure.
Upon their return, after cake was demolished, our basement turned into a battle zone. Pillows were thrown. Black lights were flickering. Videogames could be heard in the background. Comments only funny to 13-year-old boys were made. And our daughter was instructed to come upstairs, much to her dismay.
How we survived, I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps the fact that we have five children has enabled us to endure the noise and flying objects. What I was not prepared for was the basement smelling like a boys locker room. I promptly brought out the Lysol as the last kid finally left.
My house is now back in order. I sigh in relief as I hear the soothing sounds of screaming babies and whiny toddlers once more. Thank goodness thirteen only comes once. Only four more kids to go...
Now...where did that damn mogwai go....
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