While I was off enjoying the Packers stomping on the Lions in the snow at Lambeau (though not literally, as stomping means something quiet specific when talking about that team and the Packers have good sportsmanship unlike SUHme players...), Team Testosterone was ecstatic.
For a while now, Mr. G and Mr. B have had serious boy-crushes on these two brothers at the dojo, I'll call them Nina 1 and Ninja 2, AKA the Ninja Bros. They're good, upstanding assistant instructors, both in high school, both compete in martial arts tournaments and both are phenomenal athletes. If my kids want to hold anybody up as role models, they can totally idolize these guys.
Ninja 1 and Ninja 2 have a team routine they've done at karate tournaments and my younger boys copy their moves, flipping and jumping over each other in their room at night. They've numbered the moves, so they come up with various combinations of flipping, jumping, and shaking the floor when they land. Mr. G's mastery of a kip-up is also due in part to the Ninja Bros.
For a while now they've been begging for the Ninja Bros to babysit. We don't have much of a need for sitters around here since Mr. T's old enough and we've worked out an excellent system of paying everyone for cooperating with one another (Mr. T gets $2/hour, the younger boys get $1/hour, you only get paid if you have a good report). But a Packer game overlapping dinner time is a pretty long shift, so I relented and asked the Ninja Bros if one of them would be free to come over for a few hours.
Team Ninja Bros said "YES! We're both in!" and the clouds parted, a light shone down from heaven, angels sung and Team Testosterone squealed with joy. Or something like that. The Ninja Bros then asked if we had anything breakable in the living room. Uh, yeah. You can do all the crazy stuff you want in the basement, but keep your weapons out of my living room and away from the Christmas tree!
Team Testosterone counted down the hours and then the Ninja Bros arrived, one carrying his sword, the other his bo staff, both laden with Monster Energy drinks and sodas. I handed over money for a run to Subway and cell phone numbers. We drove away with a strong vibe that Team Testosterone was in for one of the best nights of their lives.
We returned much later to find the Ninja Bros' vehicle still parked at our house. I'd told them they were free to leave around 7 (school night, snowstorm, Mr. T capable of handling bedtime) so I panicked, thinking their car hadn't started and the poor boys were trapped at our house waiting for us to return. Ah, but no. They were sitting comfortably in the living room, watching TV, drinking soda. Just hanging out, enjoying the quiet of our home.
"I have to tell you, I broke an ornament on your tree. It was just a glass ball, not a fancy one or anything," Ninja 1 explained.
"The boys had knocked it down and I was trying to hang it back up, but it fell on the ground and shattered."
"Don't worry about it. How did everything else go?"
"We did karate in the basement, played outside in the snow, went to Subway--the change is on the counter--fed Jax. We played the Wii a little. Now they're all in bed. Your kids are really good. We had a lot of fun with them."
I helped the Ninja Bros scrape off their car and watched them drive away, curious to know if Team Testosterone really had a good time. They woke up Monday morning dragging their feet. Later I learned that they had played really hard. Mr. T finally mastered a new bo staff move he'd been working on (private weapon lesson in the basement from Ninja 2 while we were gone). They found a flashlight, turned off all the lights in the house and played hide-and-seek for at least an hour. They each learned something new to add to their karate repertoire.
"So, did you have fun? Would you want the Ninja Bros to come out here again sometime?"
YES!!! Are you leaving again? When? I had to stop them from rushing off to mark their calendars and grab their weapons.
Well, there were 5 black belts of varying degrees tearing through the house and only a broken ornament to show for it. I have to say I was impressed.
In other news, it's 12/12/12 today which means putting on your #12 jersey and celebrating this guy:
Spill it, reader. Who rocks the babysitting in your neck of the woods?