Our Pact and other such splendid nonsense

The patio, lunch time, seventy-six point nine degrees. We were sitting in a friendly circle around the black metal patio furniture under the shade of a striped umbrella, chewing on leftover lasagna, chicken soup and garlic bread. Calvin finished his first and bolted for the back door and various unknown solitary indoor pursuits (note: the kids are required to stick around after meals to help clean up). Being warm, fed, and contented, I naturally began to get a little goofy. A completely understandable circumstance especially considering the presence of three extremely goofy children. I proposed to the board that we aid each other in the pursuit of Southern-ness. Subsequently we proceeded in laying the brilliant plans put forth below:

"We should always say 'ya'll'." I said decidedly and deftly avoided a friendly lunge from fellow warrior Thomas on my right.

"Yeah, we should say 'ya'll!" Genna agreed from across the table, immediately perceiving the genius of my suggestion. A volley of agreeable sounds fired themselves like the sporadic thud-thud of a machine gun. Or toppled themselves nicely like dominoes, each reacting to the former.

"We should make a pact--a solemn pact to always, always say 'ya'll'." I reiterated.

"What's a pact?" said the punks around the table.

"Its like an oath," I replied good-naturedly. "We all put our hands in and swear to always say 'ya'll' or suffer the punishments."

"Punishments?!" said my punks.

"Punishments?!" said Alex from Tommy's right, visibly perturbed.

"Certainly punishments. Let's see...what kind of punishments should we have...we could crab walk down the drive-way and sing something while we do it. "

The punks didn't know what a crab walk was and I, shocked at such ignorance, patiently demonstrated.

"Oh," said Genna, getting into the spirit of the thing. "We could put stickers on our cheeks and do jumping jacks out at the road while cars go past!" What a smart kid.

Alex still protested, finding the plan extremely unsavory, not to mention unsettling, but he was roped in eventually.

Calvin was soon informed of our plan and initiated into the society of Southern wanna-be's. Amazingly enough he didn't find the idea too silly or embarrassing. A three strikes system was established and soon we began recording our down-falls. Each time a member used the words, "Hey guys..." or "Lets catch a caterpillar guys," or "Where have you guys been," the transgression was faithfully marked on our handy-dandy index card. Three offenses and justice was done. Thankfully for the poor offenders, three choices were established for their comfort. I crab-walked the entire driveway this afternoon with the snuggle bug (Tommy). Next time I'm choosing to wear a sign that says, "I promise to say 'ya'll'" all day. Much less painful believe me.

Tonight I put the punks to bed alone, the parents being absent for the evening. In lieu of their regular family worship conducted by Rob, we prayed, whereupon I threatened to sing lullabies. They agreed enthusiastically. I sang four songs to a kind, appreciative audience and then left them to snuggle in the half light calling softly on the way out, "Goodnight--love ya'll," to a chorus of reciprocations of the sentiment.

I love those punks.