But Steph said sheâ€™d save me a spot. :woot:
So you know, recently I moved.
Told not-so-small children, â€œNo food or drinks in your room. Contracts to that affect forthcoming. Playstation mine, if caught. Playstation SOLD, if caught. (And Iâ€™m keeping the money). Comprende?â€
Not-so-small Children: â€œWe Comprende.â€
So I have caught #1 with drinks (and evidence of eating activities) in his room twice now. Since we donâ€™t have new floors yet, I let him off with warnings. I said, â€œCatch you again, itâ€™s mine, si?
So last night boychildren are wrestling in #1â€™s room and someone gets hurt (never mind that Iâ€™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 (Iâ€™m MEAN MEAN MEAN :smokin: ) my eyes land on an empty glassâ€¦sitting right next to a full glass of tea.
It was like something out of Mommy Dearest. â€œNO MORE GLASSES IN THE BEDROOM! YOU WERE WARNED! THE PLAYSTATION IS MINE!!!!!!!!!!!!â€
No, Mommy No! There was arm-tugging and wailing and screaming andâ€¦.damn for a while there I thought I had little girls.
It. Was. Ugly.
#1 is still barely speaking to me, Iâ€™m gonna go to hell but before I go, Iâ€™m selling that :hushup: playstation and Iâ€™m buying myself something really cool with it. Something I can hold up and go â€œthereâ€™s your Playstation boys.â€ With all the games and controllers and memory cards and stuff I might have enough to get a new bakerâ€™s rack for the kitchen.
Wouldnâ€™t that just be a hoot. :woot: