PeekabooNWA

Get Busted. I Dare You.

Posted on 30. Apr, 2009 by admin in After The Bubbly

When my kids were little, their doctor busted me.

“Anyone in the house smoke?” she asked.

“No,” I said, totally telling the truth.

“Mom!” My five-year-old daughter looked at me wide-eyed, as if I’d said a bad word. Then she turned from me to her new role model, the kind and presumably honest lady doctor. “My dad smokes.”

“Busted!” said the doctor.

Cut to me backpedaling and using way too many words to explain away my husband’s weekly cigar. Or was it nightly? Either way, he smoked outside so it didn’t really count. Right?

“Right,” the doctor assured. She was nice, unlike the little traitor I’d been feeding for half a decade.

That brush with not-even-bad behavior made me want to let out a rebel yell. Being a grown up can be so lame. It reminded me of a pool party, where, by the time the cops showed up, we had dwindled to a dozen thirty-somethings around a half empty keg singing really bad karaoke. Back in the day, I rocked a pretty hard ‘Love Shack Baby’, but that involved way more alcohol than my adult liver cares to process.

There I was, having fun in a mature and non-rebellious way, drinking beer not purchased by anyone’s older sister or boyfriend, but by tax paying and law abiding adults. We’d started to gather up our bags and say our good byes when two young officers appeared inside the gate. I would have sworn they were strippers. (That, or our host had put them up to it to make us all feel younger and badder.) But they were completely serious.

After interrupting a particularly heartbreaking rendition of Prince’s ‘Kiss’ they said to the homeowners – and I quote – “Don’t make us come back out here.” Had someone been watching Cops? I ached for the DJ to cue up that Bad Boys song. What-chou Gonna Do? The guy who had to stop mid-Falsetto looked like my eight-year-old when I say lights out. Just a little longer? Pleeeeeze!

Read the rest of this great tale at http://afterthebubbly.blogspot.com/