Sssst

We've launched the first of two sleepovers this weekend. Tonight it's Alex Ogden. Tomorrow it's Team Tokash.

All was going well until we went out the door to dinner. Jeff is playing poker, so it's just me and the kids.

"Mommy, is it true that parents give you stuff and not the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy?"

She's 8. I've been expecting this. But I wasn't ready.

"What?" I say.

"My mom said," Alex jumped in. "She said the parents give you stuff. We don't believe in anything anymore. Except Santa Claus."

I sensed an out.

"Why do you still believe in Santa Claus?"

"Well because last Christmas I got a D-Rex. It's a robot. And I know my mom would not have spent that kind of money," Alex said.

At this point, we're in the car and I'm pondering my next move. Ali and Alex are strapped in the back sitting next to each other rather than leaving the middle open. I think it's kind of sweet.

"Mom, I think you have something on your shirt," Alison said.

"I'm approaching the stop sign at the end of our street. I glance at my right shoulder. And scream, scream, scream to all that's holy because there's a snake on my shoulder. Had I not been braking I would have driven right into my neighbor's front porch.

I realized -- not instantly, because if it were instantly I would have recognized the piece of reptilian plastic her friend Dominic had just given her that afternoon -- that it was not a real snake. But I couldn't stop screaming.

I wasn't the only one sounding like a broken record.

"Oh, mom. I'm really sorry. I'm sorry. I wanted to see if you were really afraid of them like you said," Alison kept saying from the back seat. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Alex kept saying, "Oh, man, Ali. I don't think you should have done that. I don't think you should have done that."

And then, from the rotten red head, "Am I in trouble?"

I stopped screaming. I didn't punish her. I think we were all punished enough. Plus, I think all of our ears are still ringing. They're next door right now getting some early bouncing in on my next-door neighbor's daughter's birthday entertainment. I might just let them sleep there.

Here's hoping that Sleepover No. 2 will be less exciting...

Know your audience

Alison was maybe 2-years-old when she was running in socks on my hardwood living room floor and her feet slipped out from under her. “Jesus Christ!” she exclaimed, with perfect inflection.

That was the last day I used that particular oath in her presence, and I haven’t heard it pass her lips sense. It was a startling reminder that she really does listen even when we think she doesn’t.

While we’re far from perfect people or parents, it’s safe to say that both Jeff have at least tried to improve our behavior. Most of it is to set a good example. Some of it is to avoid future embarrassment of being outed by the offspring.

Fast-forward to today. We took Alison with us to the Indy Gay Pride event. We had a purpose, mostly to hook up with my Bunconian Jeph Slaughter and his significant other, Norm. Jeph was curious about why I was planning to bring Alison along, and I’m sure he wasn’t alone.

But we have many dear gay friends and we support gay rights. There’s not much (to many of my friends and family’s chagrin) that we shield Ali from. It’s important to us that she shares our belief in the importance of being not just tolerant, but supportive, of gay rights; that we accept people for who they are; and that no one’s value system is more “right” than another’s. Except racists and haters – they’re just flat wrong. Heck: we’re even starting to think that some Republicans aren’t all bad.

So we’re walking around and seeing all kinds of outrageous outfits and hair styles. Alison, who has long believed that all people should wear shirts when they’re in public, remarked after a while that she was sure she’s soon spy someone walking around naked. We didn’t see that, but we did see a man in just sneakers and jockey shorts.

“Told you!” she chortled.

We ran into Jeph and Norm and their friends. They were on their way out, but we had a fun little visit. Ali had collected two bead necklaces, and they all decided she needed a rainbow effect. She departed with about 10 different-colored necklaces, so she was really happy.

Jeff decided she need a longer civil rights lesson and was going on and on about it. Alison was as attentive as an 8-year-old could be. She’d noticed some fun little yard art items that were all rainbow themed, so he talked about how the rainbow is a symbol of how it talks all kinds of colors to make a rainbow, just like it takes all kinds of people to make the world.

It was kind of sweet watching him in his Dad moment, imparting such wisdom. I may write long, but I tend to be less verbose in my life lesson teaching and I knew he needed to wrap it up. But like an evangelist who just can’t let the summer revival crowd go gently into the night, he went too long.

“And that’s why we have that big rainbow hot-air balloon in our front yard,” he said, ending with a flourish.

“Uh, didn’t Aunt Margaret give me that?” asked Alison.

Had the balloon truly been a symbol of our gay rights support, it would have been a great closing. But Jeff failed to remember the lesson still burning a hole in my soul: not much gets by Alison Renee Reed.

Dammit.