Who's got the meanest mom?!

My kids, that's who! More specifically --- today, son #3 has the meanest mom -- woot!
Sit back, relax and I'll tell you the tale.
Son #3 lost his football helmet on Tuesday, before the game. How does one lose a football helmet when every head has one? Good question. Wish I knew. Maybe some day I can get back to you on that.
Anyway, when son #2 and I got to the stadium son #2 noticed that son #3 was helmetless and inquired about his lack of head protection. I couldn't see through the crowd of kids clearly, but assumed son #3 was holding his helmet. You know what happens when you assume? Wait -- I'm not going there.
Anyway, my assumption was wrong. I realized this when I next noticed son #3 picking up various helmets and looking inside of them and then putting them down. He accidentally looked up into the stands ( I say "accidentally" because he has yet to look directly at me before, during or after a game. He seems to be quite convinced that I, his loving mother, would do something so horribly embarrassing that his life in middle school would end and he'd have to run off and join the circus. Now WHERE would he get an idea like that?).
When we made eye contact I spoke, using only hand gestures (a talent most mothers possess), saying, "Where's your helmet?!" He shrugged. I spoke again (yes, with my hands because he wouldn't have been able to hear me from the stands) and said, "Go find it." He walked around checking out more helmets. By now the game had started and he was not in it (some stupid rule about players being required to protect their heads). He usually starts, but not this day. It was not to be. He wandered around looking clueless for a while longer and then he and the coach exchanged a few words. Then he moseyed around a bit more (you can say "mosey" if you live in Texas) and looked completely unconcerned about the loss of this vital piece of football equipment. He went to the bench and sat. By this time I was beyond frustrated with his lack of responsibility and was wondering how far on the field I would get after I jumped over the wall and headed to his bench before being tackled by a security guard. As I was pondering this excellent opportunity to be embarrassing, he turned around and caught me eye. I was a bit startled by that bold move but pulled myself together enough to hand-speak again. "Where is your helmet?!!!!!". Shrug.... and as he shrugged several boys sitting on the bench with him turned in unison to see to whom he was speaking. I almost stood up in the stands as I gestured loudly with my hands, "GO FIND IT NOW!!!!!!!!". He almost shrugged --- got one shoulder up about an inch, then remembered who his mother was and how much trouble that attitude would earn him, then got up to peruse the helmet selection. He talked to a player for a minute, then the boy removed his helmet and handed it over. Now I'm thinking, "Did that kid have son #3's helmet?!!" And more importantly, "Did he put that mouthpiece in his mouth?!!!!" Gag!
Son #3 put on the helmet, removed the mouthpiece and added another. He then stepped into the game (the one we lost 20-0 ... sigh).
After the game I inquired about the helmet fiasco. Turns out that he never found his helmet; the coach told him to borrow someone's so that's what he did. I left him with instructions to check the bus, the locker room and his backpack before heading home. I'm not sure if he checked all of those (or any, for that matter) but he came home without a helmet.
Fast forward to this morning. Son #3 informs me that he now has his helmet. "Where has it been?", I ask. The coaches had it. What? Yep, the coaches have it now (don't know where or when they found it) and he was to bring in 6 bottles of a beverage to "buy" it back (or pay the ransom, however you choose to look at it). He knew that he would bear the cost of this ransom ---- um, price with his allowance. So I pulled out 6 large bottles of diet tea (evidently the coach's favorite drink and ransom request) and gave them to him. He looked blankly at me until I said, "Put them in your backpack." He seemed puzzled for a moment but then put them in his backpack. When it was time for him to leave for school he said, "I'm leaving now." and then looked expectantly at me. You see, son #3 rides his bike to school. He already had an almost-full backpack and an athletic bag to carry. He totally thought I was going to be nice and drive him to school since he had such a burden to bear. He even picked up the backpack, hoisted it onto his back and made some kind of desperate grunting sound. He looked up at me; I put down my coffee, smiled warmly and said, "OK. Have a great day. I love you." He seemed a bit stunned for a nano second then he must've once again remembered who his mother really is, because he mumbled, "Love you, too. Bye."
Yes, I AM a mean mom. But I bet he won't lose that helmet again, now will he?
The world needs more mean moms --- desperately. So to all you "nice" moms out there, I only have one word to say:
Weenies.