BOYS

A bunch of teenage boys hung out here for a week.

Wait.

That doesn’t sound socially or ethically acceptable. Let me start over.

My “sister-in-law” brought her two boys here to visit. One is eight and quite a handful. Seriously, he doesn’t have a stop button. Just Go! All-the-time! And my dog is still healing from all the pool jumping trauma.

Her other child is seventeen and he brought two of his friends. This means I had a house full of boys and it took two weeks to get the rancid boy odor out of my house. Thank you, Yankee Candles and Chlorox. But that’s not the point. The point is that I learned a lot about this younger generation and I need to talk about it.

When they first arrived, I had a hankering to act like an adult; so, I met the group in the driveway and did not ask the unfamiliar teenagers their names. I needed the upper hand and win the next five days (which I did not) and make sure they knew I was in charge (which I am not). I first explained that we have a poop-can buried in the backyard. The two newcomers looked confused (which made me laugh inside) and then I explained that if they threw their toys or tampons down the toilet or garbage disposal, I wasn’t afraid to flush and store them in the tank as well. (Great start!)

By day three, the teenagers started speaking in front of me and it turned out, they’re funny and witty. The conversations took quite a serious turn from that point on. First, the boys explained who tweekers are—apparently, they’re meth heads who hang out at the local gas stations and convenience stores. Who knew?!?

Second, I schooled the teenagers about horror stories and it was then that they all agreed that they didn’t want to be the first to die in a horror film. (Stay tuned for my Halloween 2025 story. This one is a doozy. Hint. Someone will find their gruesome end and it’s not me).   

Third, I learned that teenage boys eat a lot, but mostly in the late evening, and the processed food of choice is Doritos while texting each other from a couch cushion over.

Fourth, not once did they call me Bro, Brah, or Sparky.

Finally, I discovered that with proper guidance and the threat of dismemberment, teenage boys find chainsaws and axes fascinating. That’s right. I wasn’t about to have all these strapping young bucks here and not make them work. They offloaded a good-sized pile of tree trunks into proper-sized firewood. When that task was complete, I brought them to the garage to put a mulching plate back onto the tractor. And the craziest part, they put all my tools back.

As someone who does not have children, I can honestly say, Yay!!! Kids cost too much money, require too much of my attention, and they smell. At least they’ll make for a good plot.