I could call it time travel. But it smells more like feet than Doc Brown’s Delorean.
A band trip with the middle school ain’t for the weak-minded or lazy. So many gems I forget until I’m surrounded by pubescent hormones and piercing mid-change voices.
Everything seems to start with “Dude.” Everything. Male or female.
“Dude…where’s my phone?”
“Dude! Did you hear what Brian did to Jessie’s seat?”
“Dude, did you just fart?”
“Dude, where are we going again?”
The laughter never ceases. The joking comes from an energy source that MUST be powered by an Ironman-like nuclear reactor. I watched two boys laugh uncontrollably for FIFTEEN minutes about nothing at all. Literally nothing. Four girls gathered around them and kept faux-slapping them, begging them to stop, while laughing with them. Within minutes, they were all in tears and the decibels were rivaling a jet engine’s capacity to burst eardrums
Burps. Fake cricket noises. Shrieks. More laughter.
Jokes float from the back into my ears that I never heard until high school, college even.
#2018 #cellphone #Instagram #YouTube #tweensandteens
Thank you, all.
The human orgasm was a victim of at least two double entendres within my earshot. Yep. Believe it. And no one’s mother is safe (very nostalgic for me, actually). You know who likes mom jokes? Your _________.
The nicknames and insults are quite interesting. They make everyone’s first-name into “__________-dad” or “________-mom.” Mike-dad. Roger-dad. Katie-mom. 😳
Drama abounds. On the way to the concert venue, an origami flower request rode the bus-vine to help one young Lad ask his Lady to “go out.” Because, as one teen girl put it, “We haven’t had any relationships actually make it this year. We need a couple.”
“We need a couple.”
All of the chaperones needed a couple of stiff drinks by 9:00 pm. But it’s strictly verboten. No drinking at all.
I’ve never said (yelled) “SIT DOWN” or “BE QUIET” in my life as much as I do chaperoning a band trip. The minute I get into my house at 1 AM, I will be cracking an ice cold brew. Or maybe taking a shot or seven.
But I have to say, as crazy as it is to herd cats like this, they were all professionals at their concert. Their band directors are professionals, insistent on discipline and a desire to be the best. The minute these kids picked up their instruments, they transformed from jokesters into musicians. They played beautifully, with grace and style.
Last year the wind ensemble won the whole thing. I wonder what we’ll find out this afternoon? 🤞🏻
So parents, take ❤️. Maybe your teen princess’s room is a cesspool. Perhaps your son’s urine wets your toes when you creep into the bathroom at night and fall into the lid-up toilet. And sure, your tween always cracks fart jokes. Or farts. At the worst times.
I’ve ridden for hundreds of miles and several hours on the bus with them. I’ve checked them into their rooms, put the fear of God in them, and put a line of tape on the door to catch the sneaker-outers. I’ve smelled their feet and gagged. I’ve learned things about “this one chick” I didn’t know coming quietly from the back of the bus while I was trying to sleep.
But they’re good kids. All of them. They’re precious. They’re awesome musicians.
Even if they smell.
Thanks for stopping in.