We all drove up to college yesterday after work, to pick up #1 & bring her, and her belongings home. # 2 received a bye, after presenting the “free ticket to the Phillies Game” card. #3 slept on the drive, so it was just an hour of #4 telling us every … single … detail about the house he is building in his Minecraft game.
Upon arrival it turned out #1 had fallen asleep, and was not standing by the curb with her possessions, as we had clearly directed. Husband, who thought we should be halfway home by now, and had checked off the “pick up #1” box 2.5 seconds after putting the car in park, was walking around grumbling and glaring at me. # 3, as is every teenage boy who is not sitting in front of the Xbox, touching himself, was annoyed, and sure he was dying from malnutrition. #1 is standing in the front lawn, half asleep, with her head in her butt, and # 4 is just happy to be out of the car.
Husband, since #3, his mini me, had mentioned it, is also convinced he is on the death by hunger path, so the two of them walk to find something to eat. # 1 goes in to pack and #4 stays to help her. His “help” consists of picking up every item that belongs to # 1’s roommate, and asking important questions about it. “Is this yours?”, “Can I have it?”, “Do you think if the world were taken over by aliens and you only had this and a giant stick, you would be able to get back to your apartment?”, “do you want me to build you a house in Minecraft?”. I had something to take care of for work, so I sat in the quiet car all by myself.
As always, utopia is short lived, and 15 minutes later, husband and #3 were back, with food for the rest of us. # 3, no longer dying from hunger, notices there are college girls all around him, and pushes the “Hello Ladies, I am #3” button, which deepens the voice and inflates the chest. Our favorite peacock starts strutting around as he now, with new found patients, awaits his sister’s arrival. Husband, now pissed that once again, he has not found #1 and her belonging waiting at the curb, stomps past peacock boy, into the apartment to “handle things”. I stay in the once again quiet car, and eat my burger.
5 minutes into husbands “handle things” session, I get a text; HELP ME. I go into the apartment and drag peacock boy with me. # 1 has 85% of her stuff packed and ready to go, and is walking in circles, as #4, with renewed energy from eating, is still asking questions; “did anyone ever break in to your apartment?”, “have you ever seen people having sex in the hallway?”, “is your roommate ugly?”, “if someone blew up the school would they be arrested by the campus police or the ones that work for the town?”, “when I build you a house in Minecraft, do you want it to have a pool?”
I hand something to husband and send him out to the car, I start handing things to #3 & #4, to take to the car. #1 says as I pick up every item “Oh wait I want that to be on top of everything so it doesn’t get messed up”. I nod, make the “I’ll take care it” face, and shove it into a frowning siblings hands. I drag things from the apartment up the steps to the door, and direct the boys to take it to the car, fully appreciating the fact that this time, it is only 5 steps.
10 minutes in, I’m sweaty, repulsed by the level of filth, afraid to touch anything, and just throwing #1’s last few items in any bag I can find. I head back to the car, past peacock boy, leaving # 1 to grab the last things, wondering what exactly made me think 4 kids would be a great idea.
As I sit there, I see a small little compact car pull up. A dad gets out and goes into the building. He comes out carrying some clothes on hangers, his son rolls out a suitcase and a backpack, then goes back in, and comes out with a box, as he says to his dad “yea that’s it”. I hate them.
Thank goodness we only have one daughter. I pity the family with multiple girls that will have to help move them in and out of college each year.
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