i wake up this morning. the other side of the house is quiet – always a bad sign. i go into 10yo’s room to find no kids, but a bare mattress that is suspiciously lumpy. i proceed to sit on it, which of course causes squealing.
fast forward to 10 minutes later, i hear yelling from the room. both are under the mattress but on top of the boxspring.
10yo: she befouled my mattress!!!!!!!
7yo [laughing hysterically]: that means i passed gas on it. [both crack up again]
me:…. [closes door and walks away pretending that these people aren’t related to me]
p.s. did i mention that 7yo stole one of my lipsticks and put it on, but since she’s been playing, it is smeared all over her face and she looks like the joker or some other demented clown? yeah, that too.
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]