My ten year old son just said to me from the kitchen, “I have the olives as hostage, until you tell me where the yard stick is.”
(I’m laughing in reply.)
“I took the olives first because I know you like them best.”
“I took the whole pantry hostage.”
“No more large pitted olives from the pearl company.”
“No more mini moos half and half”
“No more honey, grade A.”
(A longer list goes here that I didn’t all type.)
“Tell me where the yardstick is and you’ll have all these objects back.”
“No more cake mixes, Mom.”
(Oh…there’s more…it’s not bedtime or anything. Maybe I should give him the yardstick?! He wants it to measure Blue’s tail.)
“Let’s see what else I should take for ransom…”
“I have the battery charger on ransom.”
“No more white distilled vinegar.”
“Where’s the yardstick?!
(Answers his own question) “Oh. Found it.”
(To the dog) “Hey, Blue, can you lay down?”
“No more mini marshmallows.”
“No more dark chocolate.”
“No hot traditional salsa. Even though I don’t see anything hot about it.”
“No more brooms.”
“No more measuring cup.”
Me: “That’s to measure Blue’s food with.”
10 year old: “Well, you’ll have to guess now!”
This is where the pantry hostage taking standoff ended at 9:27pm. That is when I walked into the kitchen from the family room to see all the items he held hostage from the pantry stacked on the counter. Tomorrow is soon enough to shove them all back in. By 9:41pm my youngest son was tucked into bed with his covers all straightened out from last nights acrobatic sleeping and the bedside light on. Never a dull moment. I’m so glad!

January 29, 2014