So an eight-year-old and a five-year-old walk into a bar…

No, that’s not the setup to a joke, that’s part of my weekend. The kids wanted to go out and ride their bikes on Saturday, so off they went, having been warned repeatedly not to cross or ride down a particularly busy road… which of course they did anyway. They came back much later than anticipated, our oldest having gotten it into his head that a produce stand we frequent was close by (it’s actually about seven miles away), just past said bustling thoroughfare, and thought they’d pay a visit on the folks who run it. Never mind the fact the youngest is still using training wheels and a major bus route lay across their path, there was adventure to be had!

Instead they ended up walking into the Cloud 9, a little dive outside the Air Force base, one wooden building being apparently interchangeable for the next. To the Cloud 9’s credit, they allowed the parched duo to guzzle some ice water and sent them on their way, albeit after asking them “a lot of questions”, according to the eldest, like “are you looking for someone?”, “do you know anybody here?” and the slightly ominous “do you boys have any money?”.

I suppose it at least makes an amusing story, and in their later years of debauchery I’ll be able to just roll my eyes nonchalantly and say “Hell, you boys were coming home late from bars since you were in grade school.”