madness

I'm doing laundry this morning, trying to get Jake's things together so he has some clean clothes to take to his grandparents', and Jake is running around playing in the kitchen/dining/living room, which is sort of one room.  Rowhomes are like that.  Fifteen feet wide but as deep as they come.  Living room up at the street, then the dining room then the kitchen then if you're lucky, the laundry last, near the back yard.  That's how my house is.  The Naw'thenah's version of a shotgun shack.

So, I'm back there and Jake's up front and I hear:

"What the?  WHAT? Mom!  Mom!  I found a bag of grass!"

My brain is all "What the?  WHAT? A bag of grass? Who the hell brought a bag of grass to my house and left it here?  What if it's hash?  What if Jake tasted it?  Would he do that?  Not if it's in a proper drug bag, I taught him about that.  But what if it's in a ziploc and he thought it was oregano or something?  Do small boys taste oregano?  Does anyone, really?  Oregano tastes like dirt.  It's only good fresh.  But I only know that because I've tasted it dried.  So yes, people do taste oregano.  Who has even been here?  No one since the birthday party.  Were people high then?  Probably.  Maybe.  No?  There were lots of family and friends, and teenagers and kids in their twenties and gah- I don't remember, it's not like people advertise their highness, plus they would have gone outside, out of respect for the fact that it was a child's birthday party.  And who calls it grass anymore?  Why does Jake call it that?  Who is my boy running with?  Who am I running with?  Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.  What is happening in my house right now?  Why are there drugs in my house?  How long has it been here?  Where was it?  What else is in here?  Does Dave know about this?  Is it his?  Bogart. That's a whole nother problem that I should probably address.  Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.  Should I tell Jake it's spices?  That's lying.  Bad.  He knows all about drugs, and I don't want him thinking it's okay to have them in our house.  I certainly don't want to set an example that we lie about them.  Bad bad bad.  Should I tell him that it's not ours?  No, because that is an age old excuse that translates to 'I'm holding it for a friend'.  That's not okay either.  I'm just going to tell him the truth.  It's grass (grass, ha!  reefer. groovy.), and while I don't want my friends doing drugs, sometimes they do because they are grownups who make their own choices and sometimes when our friends who make the choice to do drugs come over they might accidentally drop their drugs and when that happens we put them in the freezer until they ask for them back flush them down the toilet call finder's keepers flush them down the toilet put them up where they are safe flush them down the toilet.

My mouth is all like, "Bring it here please"

So we meet in the kitchen and Jake slaps it up on the table, sighs while he looks at me and he says, "can we talk about this?"

Brain: "Thank you Jesus, Thank you Allah, Thank you Sunshine, Thank you Rain.  It's Easter Grass."

Mouth: "Yeah, about that.  I think maybe the Bunny forgot that here.  Maybe we should just save it for next year.  What do you think?"

Jake: "That's good.  You can put it in the basement next to the wrapping paper that Santa must have left here at Christmastime".

Worst
Mom/Santa/Bunny/future Toothfairy
Ever.

But, I'm trying to be a good citizen.  Please click below over and over and over again: