I bet that title got your attention. Maybe gave you some unpleasant feelings, as well. Welcome to my reality.
Underdaddy recently made a comment that got me thinking about how…um…how should I put this…uniquely different my children are.
From the day our oldest, Zani, came into this world until this very moment, The Rock and I can’t say there has been one moment of boredom in our lives.
The combining of our genes produced a bunch of rowdy ruffians, including our grandchild Pebbles.
However, since no one in my family behaves the way our kids do, I strongly suspect the hooligan gene comes from The Rock’s DNA. The wild stories he’s told me about his youth and that of his equally rowdy, rambunctious cousins is all the proof I need.
And our kids inherited that behavior. When they were young they always embarrassed the heck out of us everywhere we went. Every dining-out experience culminated in The Rock threatening to leave the restaurant without the kids.
I always thought he was overreacting. Now that he’s discovered Xanax he agrees with me.
Except, there was that one time at Pizza Hut when they got into a food fight. I definitely agreed with him that time about leaving them with the check. Hey, don’t judge. They were adults. They had their own money.
And then there are all the holes Magneto and Xander have left in our walls during their many wrestling matches.
In fact, everywhere we went, if we stopped moving for more than two seconds – you know, like standing in lines at the grocery store, getting the car keys out in a parking lot, that kinda stuff – those two started a WWF Smackdown.
They still do. Here’s a photo from last year, with Pebbles cheering them on from the sidelines.
Although it looks like Magneto is beating the crap out of Xander, in Xander’s defense he was wrestling with a really painful ingrown toenail. And trying mightily to keep it from being stepped on.
Which brings me back to the title of this post, Has Your Kid Ever Fallen in an Open Grave?
If you’ve read this far you’re probably gonna be super disappointed when I tell you that, no, none of our kids, nor any of the wild Stone cousins, have actually done this. But Pebbles came very close.
The day her momma, Sapphire, was buried Pebbles was a hyperactive almost-three-year-old. My cousin volunteered to watch her during the graveside service, which meant chasing her all over the cemetery in triple digit heat.
At one point – no doubt due to extreme heat exhaustion – my cousin briefly took her eye off Pebbles. Which was when we noticed that Pebbles was squatting at the edge of the grave, leaning precariously over to get a better look at “what’s down in that big hole?”
Someone managed to catch Pebbles just before she tipped over the edge, past the point-of-no-return.
Which got The Rock and I wondering how it was that none of the wild Stone bunch had ever fallen into an open grave. And thanking our lucky stars that it will likely never happen, now that they’re all grown up and Pebbles is older.
Except…that Pizza Hut food fight did happen when they were all grown up.
It’s a good thing The Rock has discovered Xanax.
Wondering who The Rock and Pebbles are? Want to know
why we’re raising Pebbles? And who the heck is OCD Louie?
Find the answers and more on my About My Blog page.
You might also like Eleven Random Facts About Me and
My Answers to Sophie’s Questions on my Liebster page.