The one without a title

When I say something like, "If you do that again, I will break you in half Boy!" there is a look of foreboding that crosses each Thing's face. It is the look of the inevitable. They know they will do it again. How can they not. They are pre/teenagers and thus their God given ability to stop being morons is temporarily out of order. It is just a fact. They also know that while I am exaggerating about removing their tops from their bottoms, there will be hell to pay. I am honored to have the respect of my Things. They know that when I speak a promise (good or ill) that I will follow through. The word "enough" is enough. Enough to end whatever they are doing that must be ended. They immediately cease and desist when I snap my fingers. Just by making eye contact across a crowded Middle School Lunch room, I can stop my children from doing whatever idiotic thing they were about to do. They are well trained. I am proud of that.

They are trained in other ways too. The Things learned from Ex and I and they learned well. Thus, the House of Sass is often, well, sassy. Perhaps sassy isn't even strong enough. We are Sassay! While unconditional love and fierce loyalty mix together to form the strong foundation of our home, the ventilation system pipes in fresh air through filters of sarcastic comments. The walls are painted with vigorously competitive teasing. The windows are draped with hyperbole. Most often, we are all just plain full of shit. This is where my story begins.

Over the weekend, The Family VonSass was partaking of a partay with friends. Somehow a discussion about face creams morphed into me poking my children's eyeballs with pins (a discussion of poking, not actual poking) (Sheesh, I feel like I'm dodging Child Protective Services today). In the twisted head of an 11 year old, his eyeballs have a direct affect on his future hopes, dreams and marital prospects. Don't ask me why, I have no fucking clue. It probably has something to do with the masturbating. But, his retort was something along the lines of "Fine, then when I grow up, I'm going to be a prostitute and marry a hobo." ... choke... stammer... laugh my everlovin ass off... And then the conversation whooshed on to something else.

Fast forward to last night when Ex came over so that he and I could work together to further destroy the future of this country (more on this later). As the debauchery was concluding, I had to share with Ex Thing2's grand career path announcement. When Ex asked Thing2 if he even knew what a prostitute was, I was shocked to hear that No, he actually did not. It was a word that he heard on the bus that made all his obnoxious little friends laugh. So he tried it out on adults to see what would happen. And what do you know? We laughed. After Ex explained to him what a prostitute was and what the benefits and drawbacks of such profession might be, Thing2 made a fast and wise decision. With complete conviction he said he's going to become the hobo and marry the prostitute. Well that shut us the hell up. And once I again, I am proud.

What exactly were Ex and I doing that will cause this great country to burn in the flames of hell? We are tearing apart this god-blessed America by encouraging our children to be socially aware and accepting. We are pissing on the Constitution by teaching our children about the beauty of humanity in all its shapes and forms. In short, we sat down with them to watch and discuss Rent. It was a wonderful evening where they mocked me mercilessly for crying when Angel died, where we discussed issues that don't always creep into our idyllic little corner of suburbia, where we sang ourselves hoarse to some of the most rockin' songs. In the end, when I asked the Things what they would say this movie was about they both in unison, without prodding or coaching, said "LOVE." And that took my breath away.

I Am Proud