Tag Archives: Culture

Crazie Town Olympic Games

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Walnut War:  Divide brothers and sisters into two teams.  Find a walnut tree growing on an island between two dried up creeks.  Begin by gently tossing walnut “grenades” from one team toward the other.  Advance to hurtling walnuts toward the sibling that just hit you in the head.  Finish by begging crying sibling not to tell on you.

Corn Cob Fight:  Divide brothers and sisters into teams of two players.  Stack dozens of dried corn cobs, heavily laden with kernels, behind a protective barrier.  Begin by having younger team member in charge of removing hard kernels from cob so it can safely be thrown at opposing teams.  Advance to grabbing semi-shucked corn cob from slow-moving assistant and throwing at the sibling that just hit you in the head.  Finish by begging crying sibling not to to tell on you.

Inner Tube Bicycle Tag:  Begin with brothers and sisters racing toward garage to claim a bicycle (there must be fewer bicycles then there are participants.)  Siblings who end up without a bicycle, grab discarded inner tubes from past bicycle repair.  Siblings with bicycles ride around a gravel circle shouting taunts while siblings with inner tubes hurl them at participants riding bicycles.  Similar to ring toss rules, if an inner tube slides over a bike-rider’s head, they must surrender their bicycle.  Finish by begging crying sibling with the black eye acquired by receiving a direct hit from the inner tube valve, not to tell on you.

I Promised I Wouldn’t Tell, But…

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When my husband and I merged families we ended up with two boys the same age.  I’ll call them Phinias and Ferb.  I promised Ferb I would never post this story, but my deadline is looming and he pulled the toilet out of the bathroom and left it in the basement, so I figure we’ll be even after this.

Back when the boys were teenagers, I came across a six-pack of condoms laying on the ironing board in the extra bedroom.  Furious, I marched into Phinias’ room and demanded to know where they came from.

“They’re not mine,” he said.

I questioned him again.  “Are you sure these aren’t yours?’

“They’re not even the brand I use.”

WHAT? THE? “Not the brand you use?  I’m coming back for you later, buddy.”

On to Ferb’s room.  “Are these yours?”  I waved the condoms in his face.

“Uhhh…no?”

“You may as well tell me now, because I’m not going to leave until I get an answer.”

I got the answer all right.  It seems our little entrepreneur was renting out the spare room — complete with bunk beds — to his friends to have sex in.

“Ewww!”  I dropped the condoms in the trash.

“New rule,” I screamed.

(New Rules were instated a lot during their teenage years – like, No Dogs on the Dining Room Table! or, No Syphoning Gas Out of My Car!)

“No one,” I shouted, “and I mean NO ONE is allowed to have sex in this house except your Dad and I.”

I was pleased to hear Phinias and Ferb yell, “Ewww!”

We all suffered from nightmares after that.