All's Fair in Love, War, & Lemon Jell-O

I think the whole Prankster thing started toward the end of last summer. On one of those days in late August when you look at your children and wonder which of you will survive the time between now and the start of school, Simon and I found ourselves up at Precocious, Monica Coulter's incredible Madrona toy store, looking for magic tricks. On a whim we picked up Sir John Hargrave's Mischief Maker's Manual... and ever since we've been getting sprayed by scotch-tape-covered faucets, hit with open tins of baby powder balanced over the bathroom door, surprised by ordinary possessions in unexpected wrappings




and confronted by installations such as this one, which Simon and Menna created in pieces, assembled at her house, and snuck out her bedroom window, before taping it up in our downstairs bathroom.



Lovely, no?

After a holiday hiatus, our prankster crew appears to be moving into high gear again. The self-inflating whoopee cushion has sprung a leak, but beware the can of after dinner mints with the spring-loaded snake inside. In fact, visitors to our house are advised to carefully examine any foodstuff proffered by an obsequious young person (you may want to review our instructional video, Scientific Sniffing). Even though we have explained quite clearly that people whose morning coffee is messed with are not responsible for their actions, we cannot guarantee that on any given morning the sugarbowl won't be filled with salt and the milk dyed blue. As I type this I have one ear tuned to a whispered conversation downstairs in the kitchen, where a plot is hatching that seems to involve green tea, NyQuil, and -- alarmingly -- the toilet.

Minor messes aside, we have mostly been more amused than annoyed by our merry pranksters' endeavors. And even though some of the ideas presented in the Mischief Maker's Manual are a little alarming, we found the catalog of legendary pranks quite inspiring. (We recommend they ask Granny Shan about the Night of the Stolen Barber Pole for the next edition.) We particularly appreciate the author's Prankster Code, which boils down to a few laudable tenets:

• Nobody hurt.
• No lasting damage.
• Don't be mean.
• Do be creative, spectacular, and funny.

The book also contains several strategies for not getting caught (including separate chapters on Diversions, Look-Outs, and How To Flee) and some good advice about how to avoid getting into trouble if you are (Step One: Get Good Grades -- gotta admit this worked well for us, back in the day), along with detailed instructions for reprogramming LED signs, making a toilet foam like a volcano, and embedding household objects in Jell-O.

Our own mischief makers had plenty of time to practice this last activity during Midwinter Break this week: we came home from work Thursday to find the kitchen sink (and the children) full of sweet yellow slime, and the draining board stacked with still-sticky artifacts: toy skateboards, underpants, every spoon in the house, etc. (When we held up the underpants by one corner and raised our eyebrows questioningly, we were assured that they were clean... A claim that was quickly amended: "Well, they were clean.") But the most surprising thing about the whole scene was how grumpy everyone involved appeared to be. Isn't this stuff supposed to be fun?

It turned out Josie and Bronwen were mad because they had stayed up until 3 in the morning laboring over the time-consuming Jell-O embedding process (and watching bad romantic comedies on Netflix Instant Watch in between batches), but then slept so late that by the time they got up Simon and Menna had discovered the bowl in the fridge, eaten the Jell-O, freed the toy skateboards, and retaliated with the spoon project. From there the battle had escalated to intimate apparel. "They ruined all our work!" Josie insisted, stamping her foot and scowling. (If you have witnessed Josie's scowl, you must imagine it amplified by a week-long sleep deficit. If you haven't, count yourself lucky.) Simon, for his part, was convinced the Jell-O had ruined the tiny wheels on his Tech Deck boards, and insisting on immediate reparations.

We were able to assuage Simon's concerns pretty easily, but Josie's dudgeon had us confused. What exactly had she expected Simon to do when he discovered his toy skateboard encased in lemon Jell-O? Or, to put it another way, What was the difference between what happened and the intended effect of the prank? "We didn't get a chance to turn the Jell-O out of the bowl onto a plate!" she cried indignantly.

Well, yes. That and the fact that they pranked you back.

We considered submitting this dispute to Sir John Hargrave for arbitration, but we're pretty sure we know what the answer would be.