Wednesday, July 27, 2011

A Tender, Private Moment. Not.

I'll get right to the point. It's hard to find the time and privacy for sex when there are what seems like dozens of kids running around at all hours of the day and night. The other night we thought we had dispatched them securely, and Mr. Peevie and I retired to our boudoir and locked the door. It was after 10 p.m.--what should be a safe hour for conjugal activities. But no.

Minutes after I climbed between the sheets (and started watching a M*A*S*H rerun), a knock came on the door. I got up, unlocked the door, and opened it to find C. Peevie. He looked at me, and an expression of horror began to gather on his face.

"You...," he started, "you...you...had the...door locked?!"

"Yes," I said. "What do you want?"

"Well, I just came up to get money," he said, taking a step back as though I was contagious, "but YOU HAD THE DOOR LOCKED and now I want to THROW UP" He collapsed in a heap on the hallway floor, moaning loudly. "You had the door locked," he groaned, "AAARRRGGHH!"

C. Peevie's moans got the attention of A. Peevie, who wandered out of his bedroom to find out what the hoopla was about. C. Peevie obliged.

"Mom and Dad had. The. Door. Locked!" he said, tossing in a groan for good measure. "AAARRRGGHH!"

A. Peevie let out his own horrified noise, and also collapsed on the hallway floor. "ACK!" he said. "Ack, ack!"

"I just came up for some money," C. Peevie moaned. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to have your DOOR LOCKED?!"

"That's just stupid," I said. "I'll get you some money. Next time, could you ask for money before 10 p.m.?"

"Ack, ack!" A. Peevie groaned lugubriously. "I want some money, too!"
By this time, the cacophony of lament had attracted M. Peevie's attention, and she wandered into the hallway.

"What's going on?" she said, watching A. Peevie and C. Peevie writhing on the floor, weeping and gnashing their teeth.
"Aarrgghh!" said C. Peevie. "I have to have my brain scrubbed!"

"Ack! Ack!" said A. Peevie. "Mom and Dad had their DOOR LOCKED!"

M. Peevie is only ten, but is no slacker when it comes to interpreting innuendo. She dropped like a bag of rocks, and clutched her stomach.

"AAIIIEEE!" she keened. "Aaaiiieeee! Door...locked! Gross!"

I stood at the door and looked down at my three spawn, none of whom had been immaculately conceived. I decided to take a hard-line approach.

"Yes," I said firmly. "We had the door locked because we were going to HAVE SEX."

"AAARRRGGHH! Ack, ack! AAIIIEEE!" they groaned/moaned/keened.

"And now," I said, "I am going to LOCK MY DOOR again. I think you know what that means--so please disperse."

They dispersed--but not without another five minutes of anguished caterwauling and requests for money.

5 comments:

Boy George said...

Oh my goodness. You and Mr. Peevie are now reduced to having to pay your kids for permission to make whoopie.

zabyt said...

I had the same thought. Thank you for sharing your intimate moment with all of us. I laughed and laughed. At least now you have a system in place!

Anonymous said...

Suggestion:

If you were to lock your door *every* night, the kids wouldn't know the diff.

Ailisha said...

Love that Mr. and Mrs. Peevie watch M*A*S*H* to get in the mood! A Hot Lips Houlihan episode?

E. Peevie said...

Re locking the door every night: There are so many nights when a kid, usually A. Peevie, comes charging into our room because of a bad dream or sudden malady that if we had the door locked, they would leave a person-shaped hole in the door as they came through it.

And @Ailisha--possibly Hot Lips, but it doesn't really matter. Watching MASH takes us back to our newlywed days, when we watched it every night.

And now it's M. Peevie's favorite show!