As a service to my readers (all 5 of 'em), I want to let you know about a new crime that is currently sweeping the rural coastside. Sadly, this crime is one that has touched my own household.
Often you read about teens and how vulnerable they are to peer pressure. Drugs. Shoplifting. Vandalism. All crimes that teens are susceptible to, especially if their friends are involved.
It's all too easy for parents to say "hey, not my kid." Today I must be brave and step up to say "yes, my kid."
We've been very fortunate with our girls. Ivy's now 20 and other than her frequent car wrecks and stunning lack of ability to find an apartment, she's been a breeze to raise.
Olivia is 15 and despite early warning signs of a hellacious adolescence and teen years, so far so good. Smart, funny, level-headed...no major problems.
Until this weekend, when I discovered that Olivia was involved in:
Drive by marshmallowing.
Yes, that's right. Marshmallowing. Mini-marshmallowing, to be precise.
The sad thing is, I have only myself to blame. Well, more accurately, myself and a poltergeist. Okay, and my mother. So really there's lots of blame to spread around...
Let me explain: once upon a time (maybe 2 years ago) I was in our bathroom, putting on makeup. I felt something soft sort of bounce off of my foreheard, and saw a mini-marshmallow drop into the sink.
I immediately leapt out of the bathroom, yelling "who did that?!", expecting to find a member of my evil family either laughing or trying to look innocent. But there was no one to be found! Olivia was in the living room, watching TV. Ivy was on the computer. Eric wasn't even in the house.
Further investigation revealed that there were no mini-marshmallows in the house.
So obviously the only conclusion I could draw was that a poltergeist was responsible. I should add that this somewhat bizarre conclusion may have been partially influenced by the infamous ghost in the shower incident, an event that was still fresh in my mind. We had yet to discover that the ghost I conversed with while showering was in a fact not a ghost but a talking three stooges bottle opener.
We never did discover the identity of the mini-marshmallow poltergeist. But recently, while surfing the web, I discovered an intriguing item: a marshmallow shooter. (http://wishingfish.com/marshshoot.html) Yes, a toy machine gun, designed to shoot marshmallows. Hmmm. I sent my mother a link to the item and she promptly bought it for me as a birthday gift. (according to her, "I didn't even get up from my chair. I just whipped out my credit card and purchased it right there.")
I'm afraid that now I'm going to have to digress even further, as I should explain that my mother and I have for years been competing with each other to purchase the tackiest gift ever. So far, my best purchase for her has been a set of "Zulu Lulu" drink stirrers, which feature Zulu Lulu in profile throughout her life. Poor Zulu starts out buxomy and firm and ends up...well, buxomy and saggy. My mother's best purchase has been my treasured paint by numbers "Last Supper."
Basically what I'm saying is that in my family, a marshmallow shooter is a perfectly reasonable birthday gift.
Okay, flash forward to current time. Eric and I are enjoying a nice meal prepared for us by Ivy and Rico. Olivia is at Kelly's, watching a movie. So we THINK, anyway. Ivy gets a call on her cell phone, looks puzzled and heads down the stairs out the door. Eric, Rico and I are confused, especially when we hear shrieking and laughing and Ivy comes tearing into the house, fuming.
The tragic victim of a driveby mini-marshmallow shooting. Perpetrated by her very own sister.
Now, we are not the types to let something like that just go. We're responsible parents, and believe in "nipping things in the bud" so to speak. Clearly a punishment was required, which led to Ivy, Eric and I dressed in camoflage, clutching bits of licorice and water guns in the dark of our yard. Rico was posted inside and gave a little "whoooo" just like, well ALMOST like, an owl to alert us. Olivia and her friends pulled up and bam! they were all blasted with water guns and pelted with red licorice. Which, if you didn't know, is really sticky when wet. The coup de grace was Olivia taking refuge on the porch, only to be drenched from above by a bucket of water courtesy of Rico, who really owed her one anyway from the time Olivia poured a glass of water on Ivy and Rico when they were "saying goodnight."
I'm a big believer in "the punishment fits the crime" so I think that there will be an immediate drop in the drive by marshmallowing crime rate. But if not, heed my warning: if you get a phone call from Olivia in which she says that she's out front and really needs to talk to you....Don't do it! It's a trick! You WILL be marshmallowed.
