Good Listening Ears

We often joke around our house how similar Mark and Brady are in personality and disposition.  Mark and I are frequently getting on Brady about being a better listener, paying attention to what he is being told, and work harder on following directions.  A tall order for a 8 year old boy.  Sometimes, a tall order for a 46 year old boy too.

Things have been nuttier than normal around her lately.  Mark returned a week ago from nearly 2 weeks in Europe, during which any combination of the kids and/or I were sick.  Over the weekend, both Brennan and AJ were fighting a fever and/or coughing incessantly.  Brady had his first lacrosse practice Saturday at 9am and Brennan's basketball team (which Mark coaches) has a game at 10am.  Divide and conquer is the name of the game most days where there are multiple activities. 

On my way back from lacrosse (and running late), Mark is texting/calling me repeatedly saying that AJ was hacking up part of a lung as he was checked into the Nursery at the YMCA (he was fever free - I swear - but can't seem to shake the cough he has had for a month...and yes, I have taken him to the doctor).

I have no small amount of disdain for the moms that smile as they check their darlings into Y childcare (in the name of getting the almighty workout so they can fit into $200 size 4 jeans) while ignoring their flushed, feverish, hacking, children whose faces are caked in thick green snot, and preparing to turn the nursery into a festering petri dish of viruses and bacteria.  But, I digress...

Feeling very guilty, I swing by the YMCA, grab AJ, and head home. 

Fast forward 4 hours.  AJ wakes up early - too early - from his nap.  While I am trying to get him back to sleep, I hear Mark calling my name, repeatedly, and getting louder.  As I am trying to get a cranky toddler back to sleep, I am temporarily unable to respond.  Unable to avoid the inevitable, in comes Mark, followed by Nora. 

Very kindly (but not necessarily quietly), he points to his watch and inquires about a reminder for a birthday party invitation that just popped up on his calendar.  Nora is supposed to be at a party for a little girl named Sydney from preschool, in 15 minutes.  Whoops.  Seeing my predicament, he offers to take her.  I thank him, whisper to him where to find the gift and wrapping supplies, give him the location of the party as well as directions. 

Specific directions.

Thirty minutes later, I get a call from Mark.  "Great news!" he says, "I dropped Nora off at Sydney's house.  They are going to take her to Jelly Beans for the party."

I pause, wondering how the hell he knows where Sydney lives.  I don't even know where Sydney lives.

What I do know, is that Sydney's party is NOT at Jelly Beans.  It is at Young's Gym.  The place that he said he knew, but I gave him directions to anyway. 

Specific directions.

It turns out, that as he raced down our cul de sac, he passed a different Sydney's house (who is Brennan's age, by the way).  This particular Sydney, coincidentally, was also having a birthday party, that they were leaving for, at Jelly Beans Roller Skate.  Seeing them load up in the driveway, Mark asked the (confused) Dad if they wouldn't mind taking Nora.  Politely, this Dad responded, "Sure, uh, I guess Nora can go to Jelly Beans with us."

Mark then headed out to get his tires changed.  Thankfully, he called me on the way to report his crafty maneuvering.  I clarified for him that he had dropped Nora off at the wrong Sydney's house, and apparently was now on her way to the wrong party.  Simultaneously, I was receiving phone calls from the "wrong" Sydney's mom, wondering why Nora was on their doorstep?  Was anyone left at our home?  And more inportantly, could she "red rover" Nora back home so she could get to her own daughter's birthday party? 

I tried to keep my sense of humor and not lose my cool.  I sighed, then laughed and teased Mark that he told me he knew where Young's Gym was (which is not near Jelly Beans), and that he needed to come back, retrieve Nora and her gift, change her back into her gym clothes, and take her to the correct party. 

Then I politely asked him to please refrain from calling Brady out for not listening and not following directions for a while...a very long while...

The apple does not far fall from the tree.  Even if it is an Elms tree...