It is over. At least for another year. But for our family, it is over for good.
The annual Junior-Senior Wars that over took Warner Robins last week come to an end with the start of this week’s spring break holiday.
The premise behind the Junior-Senior Wars is simple -- but very messy. The Juniors try to “get” the Seniors; the Seniors try to get the Juniors. Warner Robins and Veterans held theirs last week. I couldn’t say about the other schools. Of course, “held” is an informal term since under no circumstances do the actual schools get involved in any of this except to punish those kids dumb enough to attend school with paint ball guns in their cars during the week.
Our house got “gotten” every single night last week. We got rolled twice -- where toilet paper is thrown in the trees; got “forked” -- where plastic forks are stuck all over your yard -- and one night Scotty’s truck got Saran-wrapped. We had our mailbox egged; had crepe paper strung over our azaleas and cat food dumped on our driveway, I am sure to the delight of every cat and raccoon on our street.
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Of course, all these things happened after dark.
We got “gotten” because our senior, Scotty, spent most of his evenings out getting other people, the ones I am guessing were at my house getting us. Scotty and his senior allies kept the getting within a circle and didn’t branch too far out -- knowing which kids’ parents would get upset and which kids’ parents were like us -- didn’t really mind as long as it got cleaned up the next day.
For Scotty and his friends, it was about having fun -- maybe a little old-fashioned. After all, I remember rolling houses at a teen, not during a specific week though. It wasn’t clean, that’s for sure, and the top branches of my trees will probably have toilet paper swinging in them for weeks.
I am sure there are plenty of parents out there who didn’t allow their kids to participate.
But we were glad to let Scotty spend a week running around acting silly because for me, at least, it was a reminder that no matter how hard he would deny it, he is still not all the way grown-up.
It was a little ironic. One night Scotty was angry because we denied a trip to Panama City Beach during spring break. “I am almost 18 years old” he reminded us. My reply was that when he was 80, he was still not allowed to go to spring break in Panama City. The next night he was borrowing my debit card to purchase toilet paper to hang in his friend’s trees.
Not quite grown, not quite a child, I thought.
That’s okay with me. I am glad to have one last week of him being not grown-up as we edge closer and closer to Graduation Day.
AllineKent can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org or 478-396-2467