Well, I'm 39 now, Ann and David are 14, and guess what?

Barkin finally decided to retire, leaving everyone's favorite mom in charge. Turns out that was why he hired me in the first place—to see if I'd work out.

Well, I'm not one to complain. The work's full time and harder, but hey, it's interesting.

Ron's not so certain. He points out that Barkin is bald as a cueball. I point out that occurred because of the Tweebs—his hair had started to go gray by the end of the first day they showed up, started falling out the second time they created life (carnivorous, amorphous life) in the biology lab, and was completely gone by the talent show.

Hey, you try dealing with a "dancing robot" that was built up from a mad scientists' destructo bot… that remembers its core programming midway through act II.

Especially since the Tweebs left the weapons in. I understand that only the flaming chainsaw exhibition came close to it.

So Barkie is off enjoying himself, training bomb squad members. He says its relaxing. Ron wonders if I'm going to lose my hair.

I say no.

He hands me a box with a wig in it, just in case.

Oh ye of little faith.

But I don't throw the wig away.

Just in case.

But I do have fun—some of it in torturing my children. Now, the twins (identical) are just about ten, and the younger pair (fraternal twins again, Shiela and Michael), are five, and we spend more time going to the beach and other places.

How is this torture?

OK. Mom and Dad have had six children, now, as far as the teen set goes, that means we should now become properly behaved parents—I.E., sexless.

Sorry kids, that ain't gonna happen. You should have guessed that the first time you came into the living room and saw us making out. Terrible trauma, that.

So you can guess the reaction when I mention we could go to a clothing optional beach. David and Ann both blanch at the image of mom and dad flaunting their aged bodies and even…

I really shouldn't laugh at the expression on my kids face.

So we go to a normal beach. We get out of the van, we get dressed, Ann is happy because Mom is wearing a jogging suit. Then we get onto the beach and I remove said suit.

Wow… Ron's eyes can still bug out…especially when you're talking about a very small bikini…with a mesh top. See daughter, I didn't go topless, so you don't have any reason to make those groaning noise, or look horrified when you see some of your friends.

Oh, you're going to jog a little? All the way to the tip of South America

Have fun dear…dad and I will just…

Bye.

Kid baiting…as long as you don't over do it, it can be the hobby that just keeps on giving.

Of course, the younger two help in another hobby.

OK, I'm vain. So it does me good that when Ron's off getting something, I get hit on by a pair of… twenty-something college students.

Oh yes, this is going to be fun. They're trying to impress me, when Shiela and Michael show up, and I start out with my best trailer trash voice impression and tell the two kids that these nice men want to be their daddy until daddy gets back from jail.

Have you ever seen a rat come face to face with a king cobra?

Then you have some grounds for comparison. I'm waiting to see if they'll do the honorable thing and politely disengage, or just run screaming for the hills. They manage to do the first. Sheila points out that wasn't very nice mommy. I point out it was fun. The two look at each other and I realize I am going to pay for this—probably the next time they do something wrong, they'll point out that it was also fun.

Sigh. Well, it was worth it.

Ron comes back with snow cones for everyone (except the teens who are probably down around Baja California by now) and Clair and Sharon are helping the younger two make Barad Dur in sand castle form. They're also using a gadget the Tweebs gave them to solidify sand…so it stays intact. Those two are kinda the insidious fusion of Ann and David— more middle of the road, rather than fixing on one area. I wonder if it's because they didn't have the trauma Ann and David did—of mom and dad having to spend time with Ann, so David found himself on his own maybe more than he should have…although like I said, I tried to make certain he was more rounded than Wade or Drakken.

I shake my head while I finish my snow cone. "If only" or "I should have" are a losers game. You can't. If you remember you did the best you could, count yourself lucky.

My 39th year also has me wanting to Strangle Ann at the same time I want to hug her.

We let Ann and David study late at the university library. It's open late, and they know to call us to come get them, or have Dr. D or the Tweebs (who work around there) drive them home. Not always, but a fair amount.

OK. One day, Ann really wants to study. Should have noted the warning signs. David's there, Clair and Sharon are at a friends house for a sleep over, and Michael and Sheila are at Aunt Kim's and Bonnie's. (another sleep over). After the library closes, Ann and David will spend the night at Tim's house. We've extracted a promise—no playing with violational nanotechnology.

In case you were dense, this is part of "operation get the kids out of the house" for mom and dad, just like we do the same for Kim and Bonnie, Monique…you name it. It allows the parents to go and eat at nice place—one that doesn't have a kiddie menu, have sweet moments at home…chase each around the house in nothing but a smile…

You get the picture.

So we're coming home from dinner.

And I get a call. From Ann. With non-library music in the background. She's at a friends house, for a party…and something's not right. Could we pick her up right now, please?

Uh-huh. Ann's lied to us. Not good. Ann knows it's not good. Actually she knows she'll probably be grounded until the heat death of the universe.

If not longer.

And she's still called us. Not a friend, not Kim, not the Tweebs, or Dr. D…but Us.

Because something's not right.

Teleportation wouldn't be as fast.

Also, you wouldn't believe how many scenarios you can spin in five minutes—each one worse than the one before.

So we get to the house…and there are kids in the front yard. Lots of kids.

Most of them churfing up everything in their stomachs. Ron grins and mentions that it's been a while since we've been to a four alarm party… and almost as quickly, his eyes narrow along with mine.

There are way too many kids out there barfing to be explained by someone not being tolerant of alcohol.

OK. Now, Ron and I are both qualified EMT's. We had to learn most of it before Ann, when we were busily engaged patching ourselves, and/or others up, and we learned the rest taking care of Ann. We have a medical kit in the back, not one of those 4.95 bandage packets you pick up at Smarty Mart. Full computer diagnostics, military spec drug packages, the whole bit.

Never do things by halves, I say.

Now, Ann's in the front, looking scared, but not sick and she runs up and tells us that everything was going fine and then all of a sudden people started barfing. She's really sorry she di-

Ron cuts her off, tells her we'll talk about that later, but right now, call the cops and the paramedics, and is everyone like this?

No. She says, some people got freaked and went home. Ron tells her after she calls the paramedics, get a head count of exactly who went home so they can be called.

There's a half empty paper cup of booze, and I give it the finger taste test.

Blegh. Moonshine, and probably a lot higher proof than anyone here was used to. Ann didn't drink, bless her. If someone who didn't know what they were doing distilled it...

Well, the first thing to do in this situation is to insure no more booze is absorbed, which means removing it from the stomach. Now, in the year of our lord 2020, medical kits have a gadget for that— you slap it on, and 10 seconds later, the neural impulses cause the mother of all chuckings to occur. Everyone gets told to line up. One girl who is a member of the cheerleading team and showing signs of intoxication mentions that is gross. I give her my death glare and mention:

Being blind is hell on a cheerleading career. Soon she's joined the ranks of the chucking. In the front yard.

Humiliating? You bet. Maybe they'll think twice in the future. I'm not into "drink is evil", but in this case, stupidity might have equaled dead.

And I can't think of many more pathetic, useless ways to go than drinking yourself to death.

So anyway, we've finished, made a run through the house to make certain nobody passed out in a bedroom.

We do interrupt a junior and his obviously best girlfriend. They panic—I mean, you're busily doing the deed, and the next thing you know the lights are on, and Shego—the lady who gave you detention for being late last week is staring down at you?

Hey, I was busy. I just told them I hoped they were using protection and by the way, cops, firefighters and probably parents are going to be landing any minute now, so if they didn't drink anything, they might consider bugging out the back door right now.

Amazing how fast kids can move. I shake my head—hopefully those two will find a better place next time.

What? Oh right, tell their parents. Uh-nuh. First of all, I'm there as a parent, not an official. Secondly, if I expect these kids to confide in me on the big things—like my boyfriend smacks me around, but I'm such an ugly slut nobody else will have anything to do with me (and yes, that's happened), I have to respect their privacy. To damned many adults seem to think that you can tell a kid about honesty and all that bull…and you're free to toss it aside the minute you think you can gain something by it. Then they wonder why some kids don't learn "the right lessons."

They do, just not the lessons you expected.

Anyway, so the fire fighters are rolling up, and we've got a list of those with the highest BA levels, which means they get to have their blood filtered. (You wouldn't believe how far medical science has gotten—things you could only do in a hospital back in the 90's are now standard procedure for EMT's and medics.). Others, with the exception of the two love birds, get detained while the cops contact their parents, and make certain nobody who was seriously drunk decamped. Ann's list helps there.

So emergency over, and we're driving home—Ron and I smell of vomit and booze, which is not a fun combination. Ann's in the back seat, and the first thing I ask is: Did David know?

Nope—he was doing something or other with one of the Tweebs, which meant that the universe could have come to an end and he wouldn't have noticed. They both assumed that Ann would stay in the library…like she said she would.

So Ron casually breaks in and mentions: So Ann lied to Uncle Tim and her brother, as well as her parents? He isn't smiling, and I see Ann's face get even paler, if possible.

Oh yes, daughter of mine—it takes a lot to wipe a smile off of Ron's face, but you have achieved that. It also means that the normal moderating influence on Shego isn't there right now. I wonder if she realizes how badly she managed to scare her parents.

The rest of the trip passes in silence and when we get home, I tell Ann to go to her room.

She didn't expect that. I tell her we'll decide what to do in the morning.

Uh-huh—your punishment starts now, kid, trying to guess what is so horrible your parents are going to wait until morning to announce it.

Now your parents have to do something else. Wade uses his spysat net to find what I expect—a small heat source in the woods by the party house—a still. Ron and I leave—Ann isn't going to be coming out of her room, and this is important.

So when a pair of sweating seniors show up to start breaking it down, they blink as they see Ron and I sitting by their still.

I give them the bad news—some of their friends are spending the night in the hospital. If we (I'm not going to rat out Ann), hadn't happened by, some of them might be spending the night in the morgue.

If the cops have to find out who did it, it will go very, very badly, and make no mistake, they will find out. It might take a while, but they will.

If the guilty parties were to turn themselves in, confess they built this thing from plans off the internet, and were generally dumber than bricks, not malicious… well then I could see them getting off with community service, a ton of detentions at school—possibly a suspension from some school activities for a month or so.

Instead of the very good chance of actual jail time or at the very least, expulsion, if people have to go looking for them.

Now they look terrified. I know why—one has a scholarship to MIT which right now may be going down the tubes and the other has a dad who is a local Pastor.

They nod, jerkily.

I tell them to help us take this beast apart, and we'll load it into the van and take it in right now. While they're doing that, I call Kim and let her know the situation. She frowns and gets annoyed at Ann's little stunt, but I'm asking her to call in a few of her favors to make certain the two kids don't get hammered. Nobody died, they've been scared out of a few years growth, and I see no reason to have a public lynching over this. Yeah, they made the booze, but nobody was forcing the others to drink it.

She agrees.

So we drop them off at the station and drive on back home. We're silent.

Now what do we do about our dear daughter…

To be continued.