American Graffiti

The last two mornings we've woken up to a sur-prise out front. Friday morning it was an impressive TP'ing of our house. (We called it "wrapping houses" when I was growing up, and it was normally done to someone you liked.) However, along with the toilet paper, there were broken eggs all over the front porch, the driveway, and Alan's car. Not exactly a friendly gesture.




This morning the culprits got a little more creative with food. In addition to more eggs (not on Alan's car again - this was from yesterday), there were pasta shells with mac & cheese sauce, shallots, a sandwich bag filled with a doll's head in red liquid, and what I think was a frozen bag of creamed spinach. Talk about raiding your parents' fridge. There were also a lot of shoe polished windows, all over MY SISTER'S CAR (which was packed and ready for their trip back to Oklahoma today) and our house.

Apparently we weren't the only ones privy to such gifts. I had an upset mom calling me who had similar surprises at her house this morning, thinking it was Bailey who did it, because HER daughter was the one who TP'd and egged our house the previous night. She (the mom) was very embarrassed and apologetic, and I think it took some nerve to call and admit what happened. And then the kids responsible for last night called and fessed up to Bailey. They meant it to be funny. Oh yes, I was laughing HYSTERICALLY while Bailey and I were scrubbing more egg off the concrete.

Kids are stupid. Two mornings spent cleaning up this mess means I've reached my limit. I can take things in good fun as much as the next person, but I'm ready to take Alan's suggestion and hide on the side of the house tonight with the water hose and nozzle set to "jet blast."