I have been dying to tell you this story. For THIRTY DAYS, I have been posting a picture a day in the amazing April photo challenge. But for THIRTY DAYS I have had a story to tell that has kept me bursting at the seams.
The story I am about to tell is completely and absolutely true. If you know me, there will be no question as to the validity of this tale. No-question-at-all.
It actually occurred just before the photo challenge began. My oldest had a friend visiting during spring break that we have not been able to see in two years. To me, Victor is not a friend, he is my third son. It was like having my boy home after far too much time. It was indeed a cause for celebration.
So there we are, sitting at the amazing Y Not Pizza, ready to celebrate Victor’s temporary return to the nest. Restaurant trips are few and far between, because frankly, we are poor. However, for Victor, we pulled out all the stops. It was pizza and soda for all, money be damned!
Let me set the stage. We are in the middle of the restaurant in a cushy red booth. On my side is Sean, Victor and me. Facing us on the other side are my two sons. Everyone was pumped to be together again.
After drinks were served, straws were soon unwrapped and placed in frosty plastic Coca Cola cups. For the boys, soda. For me, a nice glass of wine.
After a few minutes, I suddenly saw something fly across my vision and in to my wine glass. Victor and taken his straw paper, bundled it up and flung it in my drink with the skill of a professional basketball player. Laughing, I fished out the wine-soaked wad of paper and placed it next to me on the table.
That is where it should have ended. But this is me we are talking about.
Looking across and to the corner, I see my oldest is in the middle of a conversation with his friend. His full cup of ice-cold coke was almost begging me to throw paper in to it. I discretely picked up my wine-soaked wad of paper, aimed as best I could and flicked the paper skyward.
It was at that moment that slow motion began. I see Victor’s eyes catch sight the paper as it gained height in front of him. From there it slowly made its way across the table, over my son and directly on to the table located behind our booth.
Victor’s head turned towards me in stunned disbelief. I covered my mouth with my hands, but the laughter that spilled forth was impossible to contain. Fear gripped me as I realized my goopy, wine-soaked paper might have just landed in the middle of someone’s food.
So I did what any responsible adult would do. I slammed my head down on to the table and hid my bright red face, as if this might keep the previously unsuspecting restaurant patron from noticing who just flung trash in to his or her food.
I remember my body shaking with fear and laughter, duplicated by the innocent boys stuck in the guilty booth beside me. “I can’t believe you did that! I can’t believe YOU DID THAT!” was all I remember hearing.
My oldest told me a woman behind him lifted her head and shot angry eyes in my direction. Within five minutes, she and a very large man got up and left the restaurant. I caught a glimpse of her smiling at the server as they left. Perhaps they were not going to their car for a gun after all.
It was not until my boys said the people cleared the parking lot that I could raise my red, tear-stained snotty face up from the now sticky table. Teenage heads were shaking all around me. At that moment, I was the child, and they were the adults.
Now, who wants to take me to dinner?!