FAMOUS LAST WORDS

Vicki Ellis Griffis

CELESTE TRIBUNE

It has been a long day of fun at the pool, blowing bubbles, and throwing water balloons. We have enjoyed a nice dinner and I naively think I have the grandkids settled in to watch a movie. I sit back in my recliner to check my Facebook and maybe take a nap. While I am waiting for my computer to boot up, the house is cool and quiet and I drift off. Two minutes later, I am startled awake when I hear a loud bang coming from the bedroom.

"I was watching that. Turn it back! Give me the remote control, NOW!" Austin threatens.

"I don't have to mind you. You are not the boss of me." Katelyn retorts.

Another smack and I hear chairs falling over. Before I can respond, I see Katelyn coming down the hall lickety-split with Austin fast on her heels. She is seething and Austin is giving her that look as if to say, "If I catch you before MiMi catches me, you are a goner."

It is about this time I begin to wonder if my dear husband, who is sitting at the dining room table reading the newspaper, really is ready for a hearing aid as I find myself all alone in this dispute.

"What in the world is going on? I have played with you ALL day. Can I NOT have a moment of peace and quiet without you two fighting? " I address the grandkids. Katelyn is hiding behind me and Austin is trying to get to her, rocking the recliner, with me in it, back and forth. "STOP IT, right now! GEEZ, my kids never acted like this!"

Austin stops trying to wring Katelyn's neck for a second. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, MiMi, but that is not what you wrote about Uncle J and Momma in her scrapbook."

"What do you mean?" I ask as he pulls the scrapbook from the bookshelf. He opens it to August 31, 1989.

Refreshing my memory, it seems I had gone out on the porch to read a book and Stefani and Jeff's words drifted through the window:

STEFANI: You wash.

JEFF: No, Mama said you have to wash.

STEFANI: Why do I always have to wash? You never have to do anything. You are the favorite! You are such a baby. You always get your way. You make me sick!

JEFF: Where am I supposed to dump this food off the plates since you are so stupid you filled up the sink with rinse water before I had time to do it. AND don't tell me I am the favorite. You always get everything you want because you are a GIRL!

STEFANI: WHATEVER! You will just have to go to the bathroom and dump it in the commode because you goofed off so long, the sink filled up with clean water.

JEFF: MAMA! STEFANI WON'T LET ME RINSE OFF THE DISHES!
He turns to Stefani. Mama said let me rinse off the dishes in the sink.

STEFANI: She did not. She didn't say a word. Liar, Liar, pants on fire!

JEFF: It takes one to know one! Well, I can't put this food in the commode.
I will throw up.

STEFANI: Just do it! MAMA, JEFF WON'T CLEAN OFF THE TABLE.

JEFF: Why do I always have to rake the plates. I get all the "sloppy" jobs! Oh, I am just so funny.

STEFANI: HA . . . HA! NOT! Stefani lets the water out of the sink so Jeff can rake the leftovers into the garbage disposal. Now get those dishes cleaned off so I can get done here. A two minute job is taking two hours. GOOD GRIEF! MAMA, JEFF HIT ME! (Sound of Stefani hitting back)

JEFF: You clean it, if you want it cleaned off so bad. If you hit me again, I will punch your face in. Too late, someone already beat me to it. Ha, Ha, Ha!

STEFANI: Jeff, you are so NOT funny. Now get over here and do your job, NOW!

JEFF: MOM! COME WHOOP STEFANI! She just gave me a wrist rope burn and I didn't do anything.

STEFANI (through clenched teeth) : You've got that right, Buddy. You have NOT done a thing!

HIT, SLAP, SOUND OF CHAIR OVERTURNING

I got up from my bench on the porch to settle this once and for all. When I entered the kitchen, I saw Stefani make a beeline to the sink and Jeff quickly began to wipe the dishes.

VICKI: What in the world is going on in here?

STEFANI and JEFF in unison: Nothing, Mama, we are just cleaning the kitchen like you asked us to.

There it is, in black and white and my writing. Evidence my kids were not angels. Darn journals! I prefer my selective memory.

As I start to lecture the grandkids that my kids really would never have acted like that, and I had just used "poetic justice" in that piece,

I hear Austin tell Katelyn, "Last one to the remote is a rotten egg." Both take off giggling and pushing each other out of the way.

I lean back in the recliner. I have about two more minutes to nap before the next call for help comes.