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?â€
Not-so-small Children: “We Comprende.â€
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?
“Siâ€
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!!!!!!!!!!!!â€
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: