The Great Red Pen Debacle Of 2013

Well I survived, but just barely. My third child had his preschool graduation last night. Yes, in case you are unaware, that is a thing now. Just another thing they do to try and torture us. I am convinced that teachers get together and brainstorm ways to make us moms cry. What is wrong with you people? Using your powers in such ways?

My little one was so excited and he was the first of mine who actually wanted to dress up for his big event. His request for a three piece suit was denied but I definitely see one in his future. We opted for slacks, a button down and a stylish tie.

I was busy trying to force his brothers and sister into respectable clothing, when in walked my little man almost dressed. He still needed Mom’s help with his tiny shirt buttons and belt. I was helping my baby get ready for his big night. At five, arguably his biggest so far.

I was impressed with how cooperatve and excited he was. I had not experienced this with the older two. This one actually wanted to get dressed up. He was ready to revel in his accomplishment. This night was going to be magical.

(Yes, I know. But can you just give me one blissful, niave minute?)

We arrived at the venue. You may think venue is a rather fancy word for a preschool graduation but you see, in my life as a stay at home mother, moments like these ARE the fancy ones. These are the moments that I live for.

Now for those of you who know me or read about my life, you know there is always a turning point. There is always an exact moment that I can reflect on later and say, yep, that was the very moment when everything changed. THAT is when the record needle scratched. That is when my dream sequence ended. That is where….well….you understand. This was that moment.

I had not even stepped out of the car good when I looked to see my little graduate trying to draw on a building with a red ink pen. I don’t own a red pen. Where had he procured this pen? I yelled for him to stop his attempt to deface public property. I assumed this would end quickly. Little did I know this red pen obviously has a vendetta against me.

As I turned to help the baby down from the car, Daddy stepped in to handle the red pen situation. This is where I heard what appeared to be an attempt to create a cover up. A cover up as in, if your mother sees this she will kill us all.

If you have sons then you know that often times in an effort not to bring mom into a bad situation and potentially cause more grief and trouble for everyone (especially for Dad because it somehow always becomes HIS fault), dad will do damage control. He will handle the problem, then make it go away. But if you are a mom and you catch wind of a cover up, the first thing you do is demand to know what is happening. Even though you know you will surely regret it later.

Dad, looked at me like a deer in headlights, like even he couldn’t contain this one, took my son’s hand and flicked it so that the red pen flew out and landed on the ground. The damage was already done. You see apparently that red pen had been lying in the hot sun. Red pen (obviously thrown out on the ground by someone in the first place because it was an instrument of evil) plus hot sun equals leaky, melty flaming red pen. I gasped.

There was red ink ALL OVER his hands. and Dad’s hands. AND THE CRISP WHITE SHIRT. I turned around to look for the camera man because it was now obvious that I was a part of a television show. I watch TV. I know how these hidden camera shows work. How in 10 seconds did my son find the one thing on the ground, that could do the most damage, in the shortest amount of time?

Look at this picture. It was taken with a cell phone. The ink on the shirt pocket doesn’t show up here very well but trust me. It was VERY visible.

As I was taking this picture my oldest son decided to pick up the devil red pen of horror. Because your mom screaming about an ink pen once, is just not enough. I turned to him and demanded that he unhand the pen. He did. It was too late. He too was covered in red ink. I asked him why he picked up the pen. He said he didn’t know and I believed him. Little boys do things and have no idea why, all the time.

At this point I started grabbing little hands, marching them all inside. We were here to watch a graduation and that is exactly what we were going to do. I left the graduate with his classmates and the rest of us went to find a seat.

The actual ceremony was as wonderful as always. It started with a slide show of baby pictures. There was my baby up on the big screen.

Then just in case the slide show didn’t break me up enough (evil, evil teachers) the kids walked in to “Pomp & Circumstance.” They sang us a few songs. Then my son walked on stage, declared his wish to be a police officer when he grows up and accepted his pre k diploma. And just like that The Great Red Pen Debacle of 2013 had melted away. My baby had graduated.

We had done it. We were rockstars. I told my little man that we would continue this celebration over dinner, anywhere that he wanted go. This was such a great night. We would eat cotton candy and rainbows. We skipped and frolicked all the way to the car. Then, out of nowhere, I heard the needle on the record….again. What? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE WRONG NOW? There is no way……

I stopped in my tracks and slowly turned around. I had to rub my eyes. My oldest son was ONCE AGAIN holding that devil red pen. I looked into his eyes. He looked into my eyes. He dropped the pen. I needed to understand. I asked him WHY he had picked up the pen AGAIN. He said that he wanted to check and see if it was STILL leaking. By the looks of his hands, apparently he had his answer. He got into the car.

That was it. We were done here. That evil pen had assaulted my family three times. I stood there, looking at it lying in the grass. I could have picked it up and threw it away as far as I possibly could, but I didn’t. Why? Because I was not going to let that pen win. I gave the pen one last glare, turned around and walked away.

We were leaving and I was leaving with my dignity. I was not going to place it under my tire and run over it time and time again, as other families looked on. I was not going to stand there like an idiot and scream obscenities in front of my children (at a pen, no less). I was not going to fall to my knees and scream for the universe to tell me why this evil pen was out to get me.

Nope. I was going to have a nice dinner with my family. Who is the winner now Mr. Devil Red Pen Of Horror?

Clearly it is you since I am talking to an ink pen. And dedicating a post on my blog to an ink pen. Well played Red Ink Pen. Well played.

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