Air Hockey is Turning me into a DEMON.

So the other day, we decided to break up our long weekend activity of melting into the furniture by taking the kids out to burn off some energy.  We've been in flu hell and it was time to step outside and breathe some non recycled air. 

Me:  We should take the kids out of the house.
Neil:  Kay.  *wheeze* *cough* What are they up to?
Me:  Uuumm... they're just playing outside...  Yeah... we need to take them out somwhere ASAP....  I think this weekend has been kind of long for them...
Neil:  *cough cough* Indoor playground? *sniffle wheeze*
Me:  um... honey.... we need to mow the lawn too. 
Neil:  Hmmm... 

So off we went to drop $68.00 so that the kids could go down some slides, nag us for video game and candy money and we could drink coffee and pretend that we were not in a room that looks like a crayola enema caddy.  Like a date.  You know the place, parents:

*Breathing into a liquor store bag*

But Readers,  Hell's 1/2 acre has a redeeming factor you know- and that redeeming factor is that Hell's 1/2 Acre has one crooked little, unleveled, inaccurate with the scores, but intact nonetheless air hockey table. *eyes begin to look in different directions* *competitiveness begins to bubble up inside of me*  *froth forms in the corners of my mouth* *heart rate increases*  *fingers and toes begin to twitch*

If you keep up with my blog, you'll know that I have a thang for air hockey....  Ah fayncies a playin' it from tahm ta tahm.  I'm starting to wind up just thinking about it.

So anyway,  Neil thought he was going to get some work done while the kids ran themselves into a coma, however I had $20 in change in my pocket.  Not that I was planning any MAJOR air hockey or anything.  Just... Just a bit.   I didn't want to interrupt his work or anything..  Just a quick game is ALL, heheh....So I sat myself next to Neily. 

Humm hum work work

Whatcha doin?  Workin?

Ohhhhhh Neeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiilyyyyyyy...... Put down that old work...

heave... heave..

I dumped my loonie* into the machine.  The air began to rise up out of the little holes.  I practically resisted laying on the table.  The puck was released...

WheeEEeeeeE!

 Alright, so the puck went backy forthy, we broke a sweat.  The zone was entered.  The air hockey ZONE.  Loonies were dumped into the table, a system of scoring was established because the table wasn't counting all the goals.... We laughed, we cheered, we said, AWWwwWWW simultaneously. We were in our stride, man, our STRIDE.  I was even getting to know the imperfections of the table when all of the sudden this:

GASP!!!!!!!!!!!1!

The... the horrible red headed.... er... portly.. freckled *wheeze* child stole the air hockey *wheeze* puck.   HE DID.  

So I reached out my hand and said, "Alright, very funny, kid.  Now give it back"

The kid clutched it into his fat little hand and held it to his chest and glared at me.  HE GLARED AT ME.  I totally glared back.  I have a well practiced glare.  It freezes the spines of my own kids.  But this kid?  UNPHASED.  I felt like I'd be kryptonited.  omgomgomgomg......

I looked around for his parents.  Nonexistent. Panic rose in my throat... but the... but my....  *flashbacks to elementary school bullies*.   I was being bullied by a seven year old, red headed fat kid again!  *wheeze*  *wheeze*

"Aright, kid... I mean it.  Give it back.  You can't take that."  I began to break a sweat, imagining the table run out of money... and NEIL WAS WINNING... I needed that puck.... *wheeze*

The kid was further resolved not to give it up and put it behind his back.  The ultimate no takesies backsies.  H'oh no he DIDN'T.

I very nearly pried it out of his hands myself, Readers, but I regained my senses when I imagined his doubtlessly stupid parents coming around the corner, only to see me twisting the little red puck from their child's arm.   I am better than this.  This is not my kid... Why is this child causing my uterus to shrink into an angry raisin?  Air Hockey is making me into a MONSTER. 

(Shhhh... Uterus... they'll hear you!)

 I gave him the sternest look I could possibly make.  Useless.  I leaned in close and asked him nicely.  He clutched it even further into the rolls of his tshirt, when his younger sister, who was about 4, waltzed up, deftly twisted it out of his chubby hands like a graceful martial artist and plopped it down on the table and dragged him off.  I was stunned, you guys.  I nearly stuck my tongue out at the kid.  I almost did.  WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH ME??   I changed my perspective for a minute...  laughed it off and then for a little while I felt endeared to these kids.. I mean, he was so bad that it was funny and his sister totally bossed him!  HA!  Cute kid.  Little hooligan. 

But then when my son was in the line up to buy some juice, the same kid tried to wrestle his money out of my son's hands.  Then my uterus went back to giving me advice. 

ShhHHHhhhh, Uterus.....  you're not right in your mind.... you need counseling.

Anyway, at least MY kid is awesome.  This photo pretty much depicts exactly why I like my kids better than anyone else's.

Just like his Ma *heart heart heart*

So anyway, I can cross "Elementary Teacher" or any kind of "Early childhood development" off of my little giant list of prospective future careers, because other people's kids are way less fun.  Um... except yours.  I'm sure YOURS are totally great.  

*shifty eyes*  *pulls collar*

*Loonie= One Dollar Coin here in Canada World.