Wedding Crashers

"Hmmm," I asked myself. "Why are my boys lying on top of the garage roof staring into the neighbor's back yard?" I might be out of touch with teenage culture, but it struck me as an unusual activity. But then, like a super great mother, I walked into the house and forgot about the strange activity happening on the garage.

I was distracted by the fact that Wal-Mart had invaded my house. After carrying too forcryingoutloud many bags into my house, my entire kitchen was buried under a mountain of Elmer's glue sticks, #2 pencils, wide ruled paper, and Purell hand sanitizer. Does anybody else besides me think that school supply lists have gotten a little too specific and ridiculous?

Then my boys crashed into my reality and reminded me that they were up to no good.
"Hey, what were you guys doing on the garage roof?" I asked responsibly.
"The people who live behind us had a wedding in their back yard."
"You watched the wedding?" I smiled, thinking they were such tenderhearted little guys.
"No!" They guffawed. "We stood up one at a time, lifted up our shirts, and jiggled our bellies at the crowd. If anyone waved at us, we took a picture."

I had no idea wedding crashing was part of a male's DNA and began at such a young age.

School really couldn't start soon enough. Someone needs to teach these boys some stuff.