Prison Rules

Prison Rules essentially means, no rules accompanied by possible violent outbursts.  Since God decided in His wisdom to give me not one, two, or three, but four, count them, four boys, Prison Rules is a phrase that we sometimes throw around.  Prison Rules occur when the boys are in the basement out of eyesight.  You might here a winny, whine, or even full throttle scream of terror, but in prison rules boys won't tattle.  If one of the boys threatens to tattle, I have never seen this so I am just assuming, I think the prison rules code of honor allows every other boy in the basement to drag said whiner/tattler back down the stairs, physically or verbally beat the Prison Rules honor code back into his mentality (never, ever, never tattle you little whining ninny).

Prison Rules exist in our home on almost a daily basis.  It isn't for lack of parenting, it may be fear, or (to sound like a good parent) it might be "allowing the kids to work it out for themselves."  Sure, a verbal and or physical assault may get hurled along the direction, but isn't that what boys do?  Isn't that the best part of having boys and not girls?  Girl whine, have to get everyone within a 50 mile radius involved, always hold a grudge, and when you think all is well, the whole event may rear its ugly head 20 years later when the offended and offendor least expect it - see High School Girl Fight references (the hostility started early with barbies when one little girl always had to be ken and the other was always skipper or barbie ... one day the ken barbie holder knew she would prettier, or more talented, or smarter, or have a better boyfriend, one day she knew that pent up hostility would manifest in the High School girls bathroom over lip gloss.)

Boys.  Prision Rules.  When a boy hits a boy, the other boy hits back.  This could result in a hit, hit, hit, hit situation that last a few minutes, but never longer than an hour.  Their brains get tired along with their muscles so they both declare themselves victrious and walk away.  The thing about prison rules is that it also resembles mini anarchy.  Testosterone levels that reach a certain level seem to explode into all of the cousins ability to think with some form of cognitive ability - gone, I mean it's just gone.  They then share their one combined brain cell, which I might add, isn't always functioning on all cylinders.  Prision Rules, anarchy.

Prison rules is enacted at my mom's house when all 10 male cousins and the one female (better start Judo early little one) gather.  We immediately send the male cousins into the basement where within 10.2 seconds they have ripped every chair off of Nana's couch, unfolded every blanket (not for huts, just to strangle one another) and dumped the toy bins from here to China. It might be seen as a thing of mastery, but to the mom's, and especially the Nana, it's a thing of complete and total frustration!  She has even had to put a padlock on her "craft room" since the recent discovery that the youngest of the prison rules detainees decidedthe 2" foam letters looked far more decorative strung all over the floor, stiars, and general 1500 sq. ft basement than in their protective jar.  Poor Nana.  But as parents, we know ... let them be ... let them be ... and don't get sucked into prison rules.

Occasionally we do hear the whine or winney and the three sisters go silent.  "Is it mine, no it's yours, no it's mine ..." silence.  Then a wail ... "Moooooooom"  We look down the stairs to see whichever our children had been whining is being dragged back down the stairs via prison rules to have the crap beat out of him so he realizes prision rules have a code that does NOT include tattling.  One one particular occasion the whiening was hitting an ear peircing decibal level. My sister looked at her husband and said, "Jake, go down there and regulate."  Jake looked her straight in the eye and said, "I'm not going down there, YOU go down there."  Even the adults fear prision rules. You could be tied to a chair, blindfolded, held under a flashlight, waterboarded, who knows what these little guitmo prioson guards are capable of.  Occasionally one of the boys will manage to excape the basement for some mom time.  He stays away from the basement for at least 30 minutes.  After 30 minutes, the boys will forgive/forget this prison rules "turn and went red coat" he can again be one with the crew.

Since prison rules reign supreme at Nana's, most of the adults spend our time hoping and praying there is no real harm done to one or all of our children that we won't know about because of said prison rules.  When there is a moment where we can transfer the prisoners to another destination for OTHER people to deal with them, we jump at the chance.  A few weekends ago this happened.  The three youngest members of the prison rules gang, Caden (3), Noah (4) and Emerson (2) were going to stay at Nana's while the REST of the gang (all flipping 7 of them) went to the pool.  My sister dropped them off, told them not to drown, (we are a nurturing bunch after all) and came back to Nana's. 

Ahh, relax.  My two sisters, my mom, my new niece, and myself.  The three little ones had a watering hole (small pole) in the backyard, a trampoline, lots of sunscreen and an unlimited access to Nana's garage refrigerator with every drink under the son appreciated by the palate of small boys (juice squeeze nasty things, hawaiian punch, etc).  We all sat in mom's bedroom oohing and ahhing over the new niece while the boys played outside. The bedroom window was open so we could hear them laughing and giggling so all seemed well.  Never, ever think all is well when you hear boys giggling.  It's not.  It never has been.  It never will be.

I left Mom's (Nana's) room for about 30 seconds to get a glass of water from the kitchen.  I heard giggling on the back porch and looked outside to see three little butts facing me, leaning over the side of the deck, laughing.  "Gentlemen!"  All three of them turned and looked at me like cats with birds in their mouths.  "What are we doing?"  Prison rules, prison rules, never rat out a fellow felon.  "Uh, nuffin'" they say in tandem.  Then I hear my sister laughing from the back room and she and my Mom come out to the kitchen to share the funny news.

Apparently in the 30 seconds it took me to get from Mom's room to the kitchen, the three toddlers had discovered that if you launch a can of Hawaiian punch as fast as a little chubby hand can hurl down into the stair well, it will either explode or splash everywhere.  If you drop more than one at the same time, well, I cannot begin to explain to you the massive entertainment value for these three idiots.  While I was in the kitchen, sisters and mom in Mom's room, Mom suddenly hears Caden (my child of course) say, clear as a bell mind you, "oh my gosh ... Nana's gonna be sooooo mad."  Giggle, snort, giggle.

Mom immediately went to her window and scared the crap out of all of them when she said, "and why is Nana gonna be so mad?"  This was at the same time I was saying, "gentleman!"  They lied, all three of them in prison rule honor, they all lied.  Needless to say, they were banned from all future trips to the outside freezer for liquid refreshment and forced to drink water during the rest of their tenure.  Prison rules ... a couple of hours later the 7 returned.  I saw them driving up the street and all I could manageto say was, "ladies, batten down the hatches, they come." The rest of the evening was spent in crowd control.  This poor youngest niece.  Hope she studies prison rules.