It is a Saturday morning in December and Mom and Dad are in the kitchen preparing breakfast. The girls have yet to make an appearance, but they are expected at any moment. The counter top sign this morning reads:
Banana Pancakes
(with maple syrup & walnuts)
Or
GRUEL
Choice of juice included
Mini muffins, hash browns optional
The first to descend the stairs . . . and ascend up onto a stool . . . is Erin. “There’s one.” Dad says to Mom. Next Tammy appears and takes a seat. “And there’s another one!” Finally Ashley shows up, climbs up onto her stool . . . and fastens the safety belt.
The girls eye the menu.
Dad: What’ll it be girls?
Tammy: I’ll have the gruel!
Ashley: Me too!
Erin: Mmmm . . . that sounds good. Give me a double portion!
Dad pauses. He looks over at Mom and, while using a forefinger to wipe away a tear, says, “(sniff ) I love these girls.”
Everyone is enjoying their banana pancakes . . . a favorite meal in this household . . . and the conversation is about school . . . friends at school, teachers, school work, recess . . . and the girls take turns talking . . . like three singers sharing the stage and sharing the verses to the same song.
There has always been something of a hierarchy in this family, and it is most evident during these informal conversations. If Dad, for example, is talking, and Mom has something to say, he will defer to her and let her have the podium. If Mom is talking and Tammy has something to say, well, Mom will defer to her and let her talk. Tammy will, in turn, defer to Erin, and Erin to Ashley. So, it can be said that, in a sense, little Ashley rules the roost. It doesn’t always work out that way, and there certainly is no hard and fast rule that has to be obeyed, but, generally, that is how they operate.
The conversation shifts to the day’s planned activities. Elizabeth is coming over! Erin and Elizabeth . . . good friends since softball season . . . have exchanged visits a number of times. Erin’s home is the preferred choice of the two locations, and Elizabeth’s mother is . . . concerned.
The focus of her concern is . . . the burp gun fights. Elizabeth has tried to explain it to her and assure her that it is safe, but her mother is . . . skeptical.
So it is a problem, and the family is discussing it.
Erin: We could have Elizabeth’s mom stay for lunch.
Tammy: Yeah. That’ll soften her up.
Dad: Sounds good.
Mom: We could even let her watch one of the battles.
Erin: Yeah!
Ashley: That’ll make her nice and soft.
Mom: She’ll have to stand, of course.
Elizabeth’s mother “will have to stand, of course.” because, during these battles, all of the furniture is used as barricades, and, what is more, spectators do not therefore have any sort of shield and so are exposed to the danger of being hit by an errant firing from one of the burp guns.
A burp gun is a cylinder-shaped . . . air-powered . . . projectile-shooting barrel of fun. The projectiles are ping pong balls and they travel at a pretty good rate of speed when forced out . . . or burped . . . from the plastic cylinder of the gun.
The room where these battles take place is a large rectangular-shaped enclosure with a high ceiling and a durable carpet, and it is called “The Game Room.” Basketball is also played in there . . . with a ball the size of a large grapefruit being shot at two mini basketball hoops. Badminton . . . with a net being strung across the middle of the room . . . is also enjoyed in the game room. Many champions, I tell you, have emerged from the confines of that room.
Elizabeth and her mother arrive around eleven o’clock and both are welcomed inside. A light lunch of soft shell taco sandwiches is served, and all seems to be going well when . . .
Erin: I have an idea.
Dad: Good. I like your ideas.
Erin: Why don’t we do the fight . . . kids against the parents?
Mom: Um . . .
Dad: I don’t think that’s really fair.
Mom: Elizabeth’s mom is so . . . green.
Elizabeth’s mom: No I’m not.
Erin: Please.
And so it is agreed upon. The four children will do battle against the three adults. The offspring versus the parents. Progeny versus progenitors.
In the game room the battle participants arrange the furniture . . . all of which is on casters . . . into two separate sets of barricades . . . one at each end of the room. Mom, Dad, and the four girls don their safety goggles and load their weapons. One burp gun can hold up to fifteen ping pong balls.
Elizabeth’s mom: Are we going to win?
Dad: No way. We’re dead meat.
The girls: (giggle) Yeah.
Erin comes over to Elizabeth’s mother and hands her a pair of goggles, which she, Elizabeth’s mom, then puts on.
Erin: Too tight?
Elizabeth’s mom: No. They’re fine.
Erin: OK. This is your burp gun, and it’s already loaded.
Elizabeth’s mother takes the burp gun from Erin . . . and wonders what she has gotten herself into.
Erin: Now aim it at that wall and pull this handle toward you.
And this Elizabeth’s mom does, and a ping pong ball exits the plastic cylinder and makes a halfhearted flight across the room.
Erin: Now do it again . . . really fast.
And this she does, and this time a ball zings across the room and “boinks” off the wall.
Erin: OK. You’re all set. STARTING.
And Erin hustles back to a spot behind her barricade.
Dad: (to Elizabeth’s mom) Get down!
And Elizabeth’s mom drops down into a . . . squat.
Erin: Five . . . four . . . three . . .
Dad: Behind the thing!
And Elizabeth’s mom “scooches” over to her right to a spot behind a chair.
Erin: . . . two . . . one . . . LET THE GAME BEGIN.
Elizabeth’s mother doesn’t mean any harm. She just wants to see what is going on, and she peeks over the top of the back of the chair when . . . boink . . . a ping pong ball ricochets off the top of her forehead.
Erin: One Nothing.
Dad: (sigh) Rookies.
The game proceeds and it goes pretty much as had been expected. Mom is stationed next to Dad behind the sofa. She is wearing a plastic army helmet and is vigilantly . . . though warily . . . guarding against the possibility of an all-out attack. Elizabeth’s mom is still behind the chair.
Ashley: Still nine to two.
Dad: Well, it won’t be much longer now.
Mom: Fraid you’re right there.
Elizabeth’s mom is feeling glum. Their side is being “whupped” and she thinks it is all her fault. Just then an idea pops into her head. Her eyes narrow down into slits and her mouth squeezes shut tight. Then, without any warning, she springs up into a standing position . . . and starts firing.
She wings Erin as she is moving from the sofa to the chair, she pelts Tammy with two well-aimed shots to the shoulder and arm, and she nails Elizabeth . . . her very own daughter . . . when she pokes her head up to see what is happening.
Watching all this transpire, Dad is reminded of one of those old-time gangster movies. “James Cagney. That’s it.” “All right you dirty rats . . . you asked for it!”
The assault comes to an end and Elizabeth’s mom quickly drops back down behind the chair. It is very quiet now . . . an eerie and uncomfortable quiet . . . as the last of the shot ping pong balls comes rolling to a stop.
Mom: Nine Six.
Dad: (to Elizabeth’s mom) Not bad kid.
Elizabeth’s mom: Thanks.
Dad: But you better brace yourself.
Elizabeth’s mom: For what?
Dad: (pause) The retribution.
At the very moment the words leave his lips, there is a loud “AARRRRR” uttered from the enemy position, and a barrage of ping pong balls fills the air. Elizabeth’s mother, peering out from behind the chair, watches as the balls fly past . . . mere inches from her nose.
Well, the battle comes to an end. The kids won, of course, but the parents did make a respectable showing . . . thanks to Elizabeth’s mom.
She says good-bye to the girls, including her daughter, and the three adults then “retreat” to the kitchen. Elizabeth’s mom is not so concerned now, and, after a little chit-chat about this and that, she takes her leave . . . in good spirits.
Mom and Dad then load up “the trolley” (a serving contraption on wheels) with pints of cold milk, chocolate chip cookies (the soft kind), mini blueberry muffins, and some gummy bears. Dad pushes the cart to the game room door where he hesitates for a moment. He then turns the door knob, pulls open the door, and goes in.
Immediately the order of “GET HIM!” is called out, and “AARRRRR” is again heard . . . and the ping pong balls start flying. Dad calmly strolls through this “blitzkrieg” and when he reaches the far side of the room he leaves the trolley and turns to walk back. There is laughter as ping pong balls are bouncing off his chest, his sides, his legs, and his back. He makes his way through this hail storm and exits the room . . . closing the door behind him.
From inside the game room “TIME OUT!” is heard, followed by “Time out . . . time out.” And the combatants then all converge on the table of treats.