July 13, 2007

Backfiring WMDs

Mayfield ice cream is not made far from where Eric resides. He had told us that they gave tours and it was something I should consider doing with the boys. So yesterday he led the way to the Mayfield dairy plant, dropping us off as he made his way back home.

The tour was fun and short and was followed by each boy getting a scoop of ice cream, which they took a bite of and then threw away as their stomach’s were queasy from the curvy mountain roads, having been filled with a GREAT lunch at a little ‘hillbilly eatery’ (as Eric calls it).

Last night we had pizza for dinner and then took the boys to Dairy Queen… the first time they’ve ever had DQ ice cream. It will now be a ritual. Dipped cones are awesome, and I’d forgotten. (We don’t have a DQ near our home.)

Mmm… so I think I’ve mentioned that Mr. T is lactose intolerant. He can handle lactose in small doses, say, one piece of pizza. But, if he has a piece of pizza AND ice cream, it is deadly. To everyone around him. Paint peeling green gasses are emitted from his body.

Such nasty gasses that today Bones told my friend, PFB, that someone needed to put perfume between Mr. T’s cheeks. Oh, that was a lovely conversation. Having others hang with my boys is always a humbling experience. For me.

And another side note, Morrigan’s husband is very competitive and the boys LOVE to play tennis with him on his Wii. They trash talk each other like you cannot imagine.

And so the last few days the boys have been talking about how they really want to beat Mo’s beau. He has been out of town until this evening and the gauntlet had been thrown for tonight’s game.

And then last night when the boys were practicing, after Mr. T had eaten a couple bites of ice cream, followed by a large slice of cheese pizza, and followed then with a DQ cone, Ringo and Bones started to scream that they thought they were dying from the noxious fumes.

And it came to them. It was their secret weapon against Mo’s Beau. All day long, that is all they spoke of, their secret weapon. There was much laughing with anticipation. Ringo was the most excited, egging on Mr. T to no end.

Mo’s Beau came home to the boys snickering, KNOWING that they were going to literally kill their uncle… with fumes.

Unfortunately… Mr. T can’t release on demand. He had had a drink of milk, cheese fondue for dinner, chocolate for dessert… and nothing. When the boys were losing, Ringo would say, “We need the secret weapon!” and nothing. He couldn’t do it.

It was absolutely hysterical.

But funnier still was when it was bed time. Ringo and Mr. T are sleeping in the same bed while at Mo’s home. And it was at bedtime that… Mr. T’s body decided to release. He nearly fumigated poor Ringo out of the bed. All the planning, all the dairy, and… Ringo was the sole recipient.

We could not quit laughing.

Posted by Boudicca at July 13, 2007 10:31 PM | TrackBack

OMG! Too funny.

Posted by: sticks at July 14, 2007 06:42 AM

That fartin' on demand is tough now... It was a good plan by the boys though. Might have worked, if for no other reason than the plain ol' stink and laughter.

Posted by: RedNeck at July 14, 2007 10:20 AM

OK. I'm sitting as far as I can from Mr. T. at breakfast tomorrow.

Posted by: Denny at July 14, 2007 02:52 PM

Have your boys ever watched Blazing Saddles? Time to haul out the classics.

Posted by: Peggy U at July 15, 2007 05:50 PM

Ah, Blazing Saddles. One of my favorites. Alex Karras wearing a giant hat, eating beans around the campfire, hoisting a cheek and making a ferocious sound. Something for Grandson T to emulate. He's gotta see that movie. It's a classic.

Posted by: Angus of Strathclyde at July 15, 2007 09:05 PM

.... I've a photo still of Kerras as "Mongo" hanging here in the blogroom.... signed, even.... "Mongo only pawn in game of life"..... it helps to keep it all real......

Posted by: Eric at July 15, 2007 09:30 PM

Remind them that with enough practice, one CAN actually release that weapon on demand. Practice, practice, practice!

Posted by: Ogre at July 16, 2007 10:22 AM