never ask my kids to tell you a story

last night, while i was making cookies, 10yo decided she would tell 7yo and me a story.  it went something like this:

10yo:  once upon a time, there was nothing to say.  the end.

me:  um, that kinda sucked as a story.  [7yo agreed]

10yo:  fine.  i’ll do it again.

after about 3 more tries where the story gets marginally longer but still manages to say nothing, 10yo enlists the help of 7yo to act out this story.

10yo:  once upon a time [7yo points to wrist like a watch], in a galaxy far far away [yes, i do teach my kids the important things in life] [7yo makes grand sweeping motions like the galaxy, then points far away], there were a bunch of people who didn’t do much of anything at all [7yo shrugs] and eventually they all died of boredomitis [7yo drops on the floor].

me [trying not to crack up]:  everyone dies?  that still kinda sucks.  [7yo again agrees]

10yo:  fine. so they all came back to life as kickboxing zombies and got rid of all the bad guys.  [7yo jumps up and does karate moves with a weird look on her face]  the end.

me: [drops head down and laughs so hard i nearly cry into the cookie batter]

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i’m a single mother of two kids and a zombie, apparently

i walk in the door coming home from work.  7yo runs up to me to say hello.

daddy:  did you tell mama about me?

7yo:  daddy has a bandage on his arm. he says he was bitten by a zombie and now he’s going to turn into a zombie. and when he’s tired, he wants to eat brains.  [giving daddy very skeptical look]

daddy:  and i’m coming for you later, tasty brain girl.  [7yo screams and hides behind me, pretending to shake with fear]

me: so glad i came home. [contemplates going back to work]