Let me set the stage for you.

Sunday evening we took the monkeys to their annual piano recital. The recital is always held at Ms. Emma’s church, a venerable place of tranquility. The lighting was soft and golden with the sun still illuminating widows of delicate stained glass. Parents were gathered to enjoy a peaceful night listening to young budding pianist and vocalist perform their very best renditions ofΒ  Bach, Chopin as well as a few unusual selections.

Just so you know when it comes to musical selections for recitals I am not a puritan about playing only the classics. I encourage the monkeys to spread their creative wings.

The monkeys turns came and they played their pieces.

Sixth on the list to play Monkey Two performed, “May the Force Be With You” & “Imperial March”. Yes my boys picked Star Wars. I have to say, even though I am completely biased, that it was awesome πŸ™‚

Eighth on the list to play Monkey One performed his piece, “Star Wars Main Theme”.

All went well. There were no big fumbles. The monkeys blew through their bows but all in all a good evening. We now had time to sit back and appreciate the next fifteen students talented musical abilities.

As I was listening to a lovely young lady serenade all of us with, “Once Upon a December” the music began to make me feel all warm and fuzzy. I thought to myself about how blessed I am to share my life with three such wonderful gentlemen. Adoringly I looked over at my guys and ???

I spied the beginnings of a smirk on my darlin’ surfer’s lovely mouth along with paper and pencil in my oldest boys hand. There was the slightest of tingles across my neck.Β  I turned on my camera and held it nonchalantly so as not to tip off the sneaks.

What tomfoolery are you two about?

This can’t be good! We areΒ  in a church surround by parents trying to pay attention to Clementi’sΒ  Sonatina, Op. 36, No. 1 and you two rascals are over there passing notes and giggling, FOR SHAME!! Ummm… what exactly are you guys doing?!?

OH-smirk-MY-snicker-Word muffled giggle!! Bless your fun lovin’ hearts. You guys crack me up.

I see you! Yes you surfer boy! And you are so busted you big Instigator of monkeys and bad influence to our sweet angelic boys.

MmHmm… Gottcha M1! I see you drawing B52’s dropping bombs and blowing that poor stick mans head off with a machine gun.

Ha! Like hiding is going to save you now.Β  And check out the instigator would you. That’s not remorse or chagrin on his cute face. Oh no! If that isn’t a face full of mischievousness then I don’t know what is. Who am I kidding, I love you even if you are a bad influence sometimes.

I should have been embarrassed and mortified. The thought did cross my mind to slink into another pew and pretend that I wasn’t associated with them but it would’ve never worked.

One: I love them to pieces even if they do entangle me in their shenanigans.

Two: I am not exactly inconspicuous with the red hair and all, so the idea of separating myself never works out in the end.

Three: I was just as guilty of being a distraction to those around us with all of the CLICK-CLICK-CLICKING from my camera. I know the guy in front of me told his wife on the drive home, “Let’sΒ  make sure that we don’t sit near the Star Wars playing, snickering, shutterbugs at the next recital. That surf family beats all!”

Let me give you some details of the drawing because by the time the evening festivities wrapped up more had been added.

B52 bomber dropping not one but two missiles with the name “The Big Boy” written on them.

The poor stick man not only took machine gun fire to the head but a lighting bolt tagged him as well.

Another stick man asking ever so politely, “What’s that smell?” oblivious to the fact that he was about to be struck by a nuclear missile. How do I know it was nuclear? There was the well known radio active symbol drawn in detail on it’s side. Below him was a tank of electric ells.

Let’s not leave out the dog walking stick man stating to whomever shall listen, “Release the dogs”. Oh I forgot, the dogs were chewing on the legs of Mr. “What’s that smell?”.

And last but not least there was a black hole.

Now some of you are probably thinking to yourselves, ” Oh dear! Those guys of Red’s are blood thirsty, warmongering heathens!” I assure you that they aren’t. They are just your average testosterone filled scamps and they are mine all mine. Thank you my loves for the never ending laughs. You TICKLE me always.

What have your monkeys been up too?


Tickled Red