Saturday, February 20, 2010

We miss Peter so much!

Peter left for Africa last night and since then the rest of the family has been in a state of severe depression. More than usual. Different people react differently when battling such sorrow and suffering. Tom apparently hides his emotions by eating powdered donuts and giggling tears away.

After watching Tommy's donut-frenzy and subsequent rise in dopamine levels, the rest of us decided to eat as well.

As you can see, David wasn't snapping out of it. He bawled his eyes out and cried for Peter. At one point, I told him 'nice try' and made him eat the rest of his tear-soaked eggs. He smirked, donned a pirate hat and Hawaiian lei, and announced to everyone that all of Peter's toys were now his. Bwah-ha-ha, the world is mine! MINE!

In then end, we had to physically restrain Davey to control his, uh, sadness. When that didn't work, we kicked him out of the house and sent him to Alessio's birthday pirate party. Don't ask me where the Hawaiian lei came into play.

After David left, Tom had yet another wave of unhappiness. Luckily, Eisi could overlook his own personal anguish long enough to comfort poor Tommy.

Eisi didn't really do anything; sometimes it's funny enough just to look at him. Watching Tom crack up at goofy people made me think of Peter. I wonder what he is doing right now.

Peter was on a plane, getting ready to take off from Johannesburg to Windhoek. They had just started the 'flight announcements' that I still consider insulting. Come on - what kinda moron doesn't know how to buckle his seat belt?

Peter is so thorough (anal) with everything he does and flying was certainly no exception. He actually studied the exit plan as they read through the standard blah-blah 'save yourself, then your kids' speech. At one point, the nice man announced 'if you need any assistance, please contact your flight attendant'. Panic and pandemonium pursued.

'My flight attendant? Hold on. Who's my flight attendant? Is Barbara my flight attendant? Do we have to meet first?'

It was around this point that other passengers were asking their flight attendant to check the shoes on 'that spastic kid over there'.

While Peter was busy freaking out over flight safety, Tom was roaming the apartment searching for 'Pada'. Yeah, that's right - 'Pada'. Tommy the Brain can already say the word 'octopus' but somehow cannot yet say 'Peter' or 'David'. It's okay, though; they're only his big brothers. Just for the record, David is also 'Pada', but after getting clotheslined by 'Pada' this morning, I seriously doubt that he was looking for David.

Tom's lamenting and wailing continued on until lunchtime, where we finally broke down and took him to Burger King. Hey, if the kid's gonna be heart broken and binge-eating, he might as well hang out with his own kind.

After devouring an unHappy Meal, Tom decided to search for his missing brother. I'm not sure why, but I get the feeling that he got slightly distracted at some point.



After half a minute, Tom called off his search and opted instead for a little more 'me time'.



It was eating me up inside to see just how painful Peter's absence was for Tom. Peter was gone, though, and would not be back for a week. An entire week of the same torment and agony that we all had to suffer through today. There was only one hope of dulling the pain long enough to survive this week - champagne.

It was Simone's birthday, so she and Flo stopped by to celebrate. With everyone's thoughts on Peter, it was hard to keep up a party face, but we tried. After the first bottle of bubbly, I started wondering what Peter was doing at that very moment.

Dear Mom,

I miss you so much. I had quite a long flight and somehow managed to scare a few people on the plane. I still don't know what a flight attendant is, but I do know not to start screaming for one shortly before take-off. Anyway, we made it here finally and I thought I would write in my journal how much I miss you. I wonder what you are doing now.

Love,

Peter

As it turned out, Angie was also thinking about Peter at that very moment...

The signs of clinical depression can take many forms and I'm sorry, but this is not one of them. Not by any stretch of the liver. Deep down, though, I'm sure that Angie really missed Peter. So did I, which made me wonder who was cooking for Peter.

I know, I know. He looks sadder than a bastard on Father's day. At least eating crickets and tree bark for a week might make him appreciate Papa's cooking. Hey, maybe I should send Angie on a safari.

I do like that he ordered a beer to wash down his antelope steak and alligator nuggets. His thoughtful consideration almost brought me to tears. I was so moved, in fact, that I performed an ancient African ritual that is supposed to bring back lost children.



I don't actually know any African rituals, so I tried to wing it by sacrificing a virgin, followed by a tribal dance to wake the dead. There were at least two faults with my master plan, though. The first was, Angie is not a virgin. After three children, this should not really come as a shock to any of you. The second problem was, I can't boogie. After seeing me on a dance floor, this should not come as a shock to any of you, either. Disco, techno, tribal... forget it!

In the end we did not manage to wake the dead and bring home our runaway child. We did, however, manage to wake the neighbors and it was clear by their emotions that they missed Peter as well.
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Ladder Talk:
1) What was the best part of your day?
Peter: When I played in the pool with Barbara.
David: When I played with Alessio's by pirate party 'cause he had a party.

2) What was the worst part of your day?
Peter: When I couldn't hear the story with the hyenas.
David: When I can't not play with Alessio no more 'cause I are going.

3) What would you like to do tomorrow?
Peter: I want to look at the animals.
David: Play with Mama 'cause Peter not here now.

2 comments:

  1. @ rtfgvb7810: Wow. Thanks, man. I don't know what to say. Your flattery is overwhelming. :-)

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  2. Who's my flight attendant... haha... who's cooking for Peter... hoho... who's teaching Steve dancing... hehe... one of your funniest story ever.

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