All Hale Scout Camp!

John's away at Boy Scout Camp this week so I have to tell all the stories about him, that he would otherwise get mad about if he were here....

He has this tact deficiancy thing. Or maybe he just likes bustin his Momma's chops. A couple of weeks ago this guy came by the house, you know the one's who'll paint the numbers on your curb. Well we've lived here four years and yes our numbers are a little ratty looking and could probably use a good spray paint, but usually they leave a little note taped to your door that says if you want it done, tape the note on your mailbox or some such nonsense and I just never decided to have it done. But John ALWAYS wants me to have it done. Every time we get one on the front door he pleads, "Please Mom, look, they use reflective paint and if the fire department ever needs to find the house, we should have reflective paint!" and I always counter with some lame excuse or another saying "Well, who are these people and how will I know if they do a good job?" But on this particular day the actual guy showed up on the door asking if I wanted to have it done.

If you are a door-to-door salesman, I'm your girl. I find it almost impossible to say no. Baseball candy sales? Yep. Down on your luck college kid hawking encyclopedias and software? O.K. Rainbow Vaccums? I've got one. Homeless kid earning a living by selling home cleaning products? Sure, I clean. Jehova's Witness? Come on in, I'll make tea. I try to be cautious, I've turned away a few and I like the "Ignore the Doorbell" aproach, but Peach and Ace have taken away that option as they rush to the door squeeling and yelling "I'll get it!" every time it rings. So when this guy showed up at the door asking to paint the numbers on my curb with glass beaded paint, it looked grim. But wait! My husband and I just implemented a new budget and I had NO cash and therefore NO authorization for glass beaded paint. "Sorry I said, I just can't have it done right now, maybe on the fifteenth." "Sure," he said "here's my card, just give me a call." Whew!

So five or ten minutes later I head across the street to return Sunny's camera and guess who's having her numbers painted on the curb? We stand out talking on her front yard for a minute or two and the guy calls from the curb "HEY, IF YOU WANT ME TO GO AHEAD AND DO YOUR NUMBERS FOR YOU TODAY, WE CAN JUST WORK THE MONEY OUT LATER." Crap! Busted...right in front of all my neighbors. "Great!" I yelled back "Sure, go ahead!" He says "Oh and instead of twenty each for both sides of the driveway it's only twenty and then ten. Gives you the second one half price!" "Yeah, O.k." Man Charlie's gonna kill me! John runs over, "Mom! Are you having our numbers done?!" "Yes, baby, I'm havin the numbers done." It was the event of the century. All three of the clones (John, Peach and Ace) gathered around the driveway watching intently as the guy with the ponytail pulled out his various curb painting supplies. Two of my other neighbors came out to wax philisophical over color combinations and extras ("We don't really have a college affiliation, but he does a nice Texans stencil.") By the time we were done he'd gotten several more sales and had to redo mine twice because Ace stepped on and smeared the numbers while we had our head turned.

Cut to later in the evening as we're sitting around the living room and John says "Oh DAD, DID YOU SEE..." and I secretly start waving him off (NO, SHHH) and he tilts his head "Dad did you.." ("NO NO" I pantomime! Finger slicing across the throat.) "What?" A subtle head shake in the negative. "What? You don't want me to tell Dad about the numbers?" "JOHN, IX-NAY-ON THE UMBERSNA." "Why? Why can't I tell Dad you had the numbers painted on the curb?" *SIGH* "Mom, that's secretism."

No it's not secretism. It's knowing just the right time and the right place to tell your spouse that two days in to the new budget you spent an evening sweating over, that you post- dated a $30 check to some guy in a ponytail that you shouldn't have opened the door for in the first place.

Exactly how do you explain that to a twelve year old?