So Ciera went to her first Middle School dance tonight.
I had no idea I could freak out that much in a three hour time span, but I surprised myself. She's currently downstairs going over every detail with her Mom, who is for some weird reason excited about this latest development. I bear hugged her when she came in the front door, asked her if she danced with any boys, got the standard "Daaaaad. NO.", decided to believe her rather than explore the issue further, and headed upstairs.
Where I've spent the last 45 minutes imagining every possible covert op for Rakes and Trot over the next 6 years my feeble brain could come up with and pricing night vision goggles and explosive devices that look like common household objects on the Internet. I've even considered buying a subscription to "Soldier of Fortune" magazine for the boys; they like to look at guns, they are fairly well coordinated, and Rakes has got a pretty hot arm for a 6 year old that weighs less than 40 lbs.
Give me 6 months and a Rambo marathon for inspiration and I'm pretty sure I can ensure she'll remain dateless for the rest of her public school career.
Now, if I can figure out a way to get Rakes to graduate High School at the age of 13 so he can accompany her to college I'll have my master plan completed.
Only problem is he's more like Hank the Tank than Doogie Howser. I've got 6 years though; the Red Sox won the World Series twice in 4 years.
ANYTHING can happen.
Thoughts While Trying to Ignore the Blow Out
2 days ago