Van Ornamentation

Sometimes I just itch for an adventure, long for a little somethin'-somethin'.

This feeling washed over me while at the pool yesterday. I was talking to my nephew while my other nephews and my own boys played sharks and minnows in the pool.

The whistle blew for '15-minute rest break'. As the kids heaved their wet bodies out of the pool, I glanced around for towels and noticed Jonah's boxers lying on a chair next to his jeans. Now, boxers are really more of an accessory. The top inch sticks out above shorts and jeans, so it's not as if we're talking about a nasty, dirty pair of tighty whities here. In my defense, please keep this fact in mind.

I don't know what came over me.

I think it was too much sun or something evil of that nature.

In a moment of insanity, I picked up his boxers, walked nonchalantly to an empty lifeguard chair stand, and casually slid them onto the pole.

There they hung, waving a silent salute in the summer breeze.

It was a beautiful thing, one of rare beauty. Boxers hanging on a lifeguard chair and an unsuspecting teenager.

A minute or so later, I sat questioning myself. Did I cross the line? I love to play jokes on my kids and vice versa. But I never want to humiliate them too much. I never want to break their confidence.

Just about the time I decided to walk over and take them down before anyone noticed, the music at the pool turned off and the P.A. microphone buzzed. My heart stopped as I realized what was happening:

"Attention. Attention Everyone! I would like to direct your attention to the lifeguard chair at the pool's entrance. There is a pair of boy's boxers hanging on the chair. Would the owner of these boxers please come and remove them now?"

I wanted to remain calm, remain nonchalant, so that no one would know who the underwear belonged to. Really, I did. But I just could not contain myself. I laughed until I snorted, and snorted until I cried.

My poor, poor 14-year old son. I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me.

I felt bad about it (sort of) for a few more hours until after dinner.

I had just come back from running Gable to the pool. The other boys decided they wanted to go to the pool, so we headed back outside. It was then that I noticed a pair of my own underwear hung from the back windshield wiper of my van.

A mom-van with panties.

So yeah, I really just do not feel so sorry for the little punk anymore.

I just don't.