Goin To Hell

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But Steph said she’d save me a spot. :woot:

So you know, recently I moved.
Told not-so-small children, “No food or drinks in your room. Contracts to that affect forthcoming. Playstation mine, if caught. Playstation SOLD, if caught. (And I’m keeping the money). Comprende?”

Not-so-small Children: “We Comprende.”

So I have caught #1 with drinks (and evidence of eating activities) in his room twice now. Since we don’t have new floors yet, I let him off with warnings. I said, “Catch you again, it’s mine, si?

“Si”

So last night boychildren are wrestling in #1’s room and someone gets hurt (never mind that I’ve told them 6,945,893 times NOT to wrestle in the house. I blame this sad addiction to wrestling (and wrestling each other) on their dad (who probably thinks its real). Anyway, so I trot down the hall and in the middle of forbidding boychildren from watching wrestling for a month (I’m MEAN MEAN MEAN :smokin: ) my eyes land on an empty glass…sitting right next to a full glass of tea.

It was like something out of Mommy Dearest. “NO MORE GLASSES IN THE BEDROOM! YOU WERE WARNED! THE PLAYSTATION IS MINE!!!!!!!!!!!!”

No, Mommy No! There was arm-tugging and wailing and screaming and….damn for a while there I thought I had little girls.

It. Was. Ugly.

#1 is still barely speaking to me, I’m gonna go to hell but before I go, I’m selling that :hushup: playstation and I’m buying myself something really cool with it. Something I can hold up and go “there’s your Playstation boys.” With all the games and controllers and memory cards and stuff I might have enough to get a new baker’s rack for the kitchen.

Wouldn’t that just be a hoot. :woot:

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