Well, birthday story of three years ago. It is the season of birthdays in our house, Wilder on the 28th of May, Rose on the 5th of June. That makes for action packed weekends around our place. I lived through Wilder's party of boys, and one girl... plus his sister. Lots of yelling and sugar rushing.
This weekend will be at least a dozen fifteen year-olds whooping it up around the house. Yikes. But girls are easier? Or at least there are less fart and burp jokes.
I was wondering if they were all going to go out after hours to the gravel pit and get all dirty sliding around on their rears... and was reminded when we lived in Seattle next to a large park and beach. For Rose's birthday we thought we would go the park in the dark to the beach... such excitement for a bunch of 12 year-olds. My next door neighbor was walking down with us also. 12 year old girls being naturally squeally we thought they could get their hollering out of their system at the beach and through the forest before I was trapped in a house with them overnight. So halfway down the trail said friend disappears ahead of us down a trail. We head down the main road toward the beach, me and a dozen girls. It is dark. Evergreen trees leaning over the road. The gals are clustered around me as we hike down the hill to the beach. A truck drives by us heading uphill toward the exit. Then, a few minutes later, the truck is back... directly behind us a few yards. With their lights off. And shaded windows that I could not see in to who was driving. Once the girls noticed we were being followed, they began to freak out. Who out there is familiar with group psychology of girls? Not pretty, and we were about 1/2 mile from home. With no one around. And my neighbor somewhere down the trail and not able to hear me when I was calling her. Here we were out having an exciting evening of night beach visits and we are being shadowed by a truck of creepers. My inclination was to tear those truck boys a new somethingerather, I was that pissed that they thought that would be funny.
The main thing I have thought of since this is what sort of people in the truck thought it was funny to intimidate a gaggle of prepubescent girls like a scene out of a bad horror flick? They must have felt very powerless within their own lives to get a charge outta that.
The boring end of story is : called home and Dennis came and got the kids in the minivan, called neighbor on trail to go home, and I did not get to kick anyone's truck butt.
Wish me luck for this weekend. I think we will "do nails."
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