Spurred on by the imminent spring, the fraternity party rages on at our homestead. This weekend, both boys imbibed a vast quantity of diluted juice and got out into the yard. Although the festivities began sedately, they soon devolved as the "juice" kicked in. First, they drove each other about in a plastic van, smashing into walls with ever-increasing force. The van eventually dumped over and they clambered in and out of the windows and doors. Their laughter became rather maniacal.
This excitement was not enough. Next, they had both pulled down their pants and were running around and around the garage, pausing only to stuff leaves down into their underwear and diaper, respectively. The little one, like clockwork, fell flat on his face each time he rounded the far corner. With each turn around the garage their pants fell lower. Then shoes went flying, knocking one boy in the eye and tumbling him backward. Adios, pantalones! It was quick work for them to remove the rest of their clothes and to run in circles around the yard screaming things like "Ya! Ya! Ya!"
Nude, they scrambled up and down the slide, occasionally piddling into the flowerbeds. Some of the discarded clothes were transformed into hats and even a skirt.
My husband emerged on to the porch, with a baleful eye. "My god," he cried. "It's like Beyond Thunderdome out here."
"Arrrggh!" shrieked the older boy, naked except for a leaf between his teeth. The younger one slipped backwards down the slide and tumbled, dimpled little butt over teakettle, onto the grass.