We celebrated my son's 7th birthday this past weekend.
We opened our doors to 10 of Sam's hooligan buddies, who of course thoroughly dishonoured our home. Needless to say, it was a total success!
I found myself completely enthralled watching the little beasts amidst the chaos.
Careful not to spook them; I would move slowly, never making eye contact. Always observing.
Their interactions were fascinating: They spoke their minds. and were not afraid of what others thought. They were snotty and drooly and moved as a pack in complete harmony with each other. They owned their environment.
I began daydreaming about how much more enjoyable life would be if all of us adults started acting like the suppressed children buried deep within ourselves.
I believe my life as a project manager would go something like this:
I arrive early to the meeting room to set up. I sit down, take my shoes and socks off, and begin twirling in a chair. I spin for 5 minutes and then make carpet snow angels while waiting for the others to show up.
"It stinks in here" Sally says as she enters the room.
"Yeah, that's me. No big deal" I reply.
She sits down, and quickly begins picking her nose. I tell her she's gross as she shows me her finger prize.
Joe and Bill arrive simultaneously, wrestling and sweating. They fight each other for the chair beside Sally. Joe wins.
Bill, panting, dives into the last available chair. He places both hands down his pants. I respect this power move, and show my approval by nodding my head.
The meeting begins.
I start by reviewing the agenda and the previous meeting minutes.
Joe quickly interrupts and begins explaining that he had forgotten to put on underwear, but more importantly, that he had just pooped.
I am not surprised, as this is a common occurrence at the office.
I calmly ask that he excuse himself to the washroom.
Before he leaves, Bill, Sally and I break out in unified song, and mock him relentlessly to a modified version of Mary had a little lamb.
He throws a temper tantrum, and storms out. We laugh hysterically.
While waiting for Joe to clean up, we hold a "no holds barred" burping contest. Surprisingly, Sally burps like a lumberjack, and wins by a landslide.
After successfully passing the time, Joe saunters back in wearing no pants.
The meeting resumes, and we begin discussing relevant and pertinent things.
We have a tickle fight and then we nap.
And so, another perfect meeting would come to an end.