The Super Bowl is Sunday. And this presents a rare opportunity for children to cause trouble. All the parents will be busy for the same four-hour period. I mean, I don’t even know who is playing, but I’m definitely watching, and eating lots of salsa. And guacamole. Yum. And you will, too. A lot of people will go to parties, some will watch at home, but however you cut it, just about every adult in America will be consumed by TV and Doritos. Not a single person will care what the kids are doing. It’s like the moment in the movie when the guards change shifts and the security cameras go down for routine maintenance at the same time.
And this, my friends, is the perfect opportunity for a baby prison break.
If you have teenagers, God help you because they already know what’s up. But if you have younger kids, the first hour might be okay. The kids will spend that time going through the five stages of grief/abandonment. You’ll know they’ve hit “bargaining” when you start hearing “Dad. Dad. Dad. DAD. DAD. DAD. MOM. Mom. MOM. MOMMOMMOMMOMMOM.” If you do not respond–and of course you won’t because we need a tiny wiener platter refilled and that one team is about to score–the kids will quickly move to “acceptance” and then the real mess begins.
Babies will schmeer walls with, well, NOT guacamole. Toddlers will feed the dog all the tiny wieners, then run when he barfs them all up on your carpet. Preschoolers will call whoever is on your speed dial. Older kids will alter the chore chart and give themselves massive allowance raises. Actually I don’t know what the older kids will do, I’m just pretty sure that’s what Sally will do in a few years. In any event, they’ll go power crazy. They’re alone! They rule the world, FINALLY. So they’re going to decorate your boring bathroom with purple crayon. They’re going to experiment and see if dolls other than Baby Alive can pee if they drench them with orange juice. They’re going to lock younger siblings in confined spaces. They’re going to take their clothes off. And dance in front of the TV. During the halftime commercials.
So beware, parents. I’m not saying you need to pay attention to your kids this Sunday, just accept the situation and be thankful they can’t all coordinate on Twitter to lead a revolution: Lock the front door; have a first aid kit ready; and be prepared to clean up the trail of sugar they made to lead the ants to the pantry. Happy Super Bowl!