So, my lovely, wonderful Mo, got busted smoking a cigarette and has to go to court. Really? Court? For a cigarette? Don't get me wrong, I do not want my child to smoke, but seriously, court? I have to take a day off work and go to court with her? She has to pay a fine, as well she should, and then she and I have to attend a Mommy and Me "Why smoking is bad" class. WTF? I wasn't smoking! I remember when Mommy and Me meant something fun, not a court ordered class. So begins my beloved daughters foray into a life of juvenile delinquency.
So of course she is grounded until she is dead, her father, her aunts and I have lectured her until her ears are bleeding. So tonight she and I are bonding.
Like any mother worth her salt I believe hard work is essential to bonding so I decide she will help me rip up the carpet and padding in my room so I can begin the remodel. She tried to get out of it, I remind her about being grounded until she is dead so she begrudgingly agrees to help.
It's kind of fun, pulling up the carpet from the tack strips, rolling it up and then wrestling it down the stairs, out the front door and into the trash can. Once it's in the trash can I realize that even folded in thirds it is over seven feet tall. The trash truck will never take it so we wrestle it out of the trash can and into the truck of my car. After much giggling and grunting we manage to wedge it into the truck and I strap it down with bungee cords.
"What are you going to do with it" asks my innocent child.
" We have to wait until dark, and then go put it in the dumpster by those apartments across the street." Mom always has the answer.
" Why do we have to wait until it's dark?" she is so innocent.
I'm kind of stumped because I realize that not only am I encouraging my budding juvenile delinquent to break the law, I'm actually about to teach her how!
"Well, you're not exactly allowed to dump your stuff in a dumpster that is not yours."
Back in the house we go, Mo practices the song on the keyboard she is learning to impress her Daddy and I continue to rip up baseboards.
Finally it's dark, as Mo gleefully tells me and then asks,
" Are we gonna get rid of the body now?"
This is bad, somehow this has become a game and now we are getting rid of a dead body instead of a roll of unneeded carpet.
Into the car we go, sitting low in the seats like the criminals we are, and make our way to the apartment complex.
We find the dumpster all the way in the back and since we had to shove the carpet in the trunk it takes some serious pulling and grunting and more pulling to get it out. Once out the damn thing opens up like those bake and serve rolls, once you pop that thing open, those rolls are not going back.
Now we are laughing so hard we can't lift it. We drag it to the dumpster, we can't lift it up and put it in the dumpster because it's all floppy, and as Mo reminds me, there's a body in it. We prop it up next to the dumpster as headlights come around the corner. Suddenly we are running and hood sliding like Bo Duke, Mo slams the trunk we jump in the car and take off, careful to maintain the posted speed limit of 10 miles an hour.
As we leave Mo is giggling about what incompetent criminals we are, can't even dump a body in the dumpster, we had to leave it propped against it.
We get home safely, taking the back roads in case anyone is following us. Mo goes in the house to practice the song she is learning and I am left to ponder the lesson I just taught my darling daughter.
Guess that's just one more thing she can bring up in therapy when she is telling them it's all her mother's fault.