10yo, in lieu of reading on her own, chose to read to me from some sort of minecraft handbook. i now know more than i ever – EVER – wanted to about zombie pigmen and the difference between wither skeletons and withers (hint: number of heads). i’m seriously rethinking the whole kindle for the kids things. *headdesk*
apparently daddy watched cat videos on youtube with the kids when i wasn’t home, and there was one of a cat twerking to the “big fat butt” song (whatever that is). so this is what i got at dinner.
7yo: i think i’ll finish my dinner and go twerk in my room.
me: it’s time for bed. turn off the tv in the playroom and go get ready.
them: [all kinds of wailing and whining, then whispering and silence]
them: mama, look at us. [each slowly crawls out of playroom looking sad with their heads down ] slow, mournful song plays in the background.
me: [stifling laughter]
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]
the kids wanted me to play my lil pony with them the other day (we have several of them, including a few i can actually name). they set it up with a pony car, some pony groceries and a grocery cart, and various other things. the detailed background story that 10yo came up with for each pony was amazing. after playing a pretty much normal game for a while, things turned to less standard fare.
the rest of the playing is impossible to recreate in words, and possibly should not be for public consumption. suffice it to say that we segued into a song (the first song) called “i am a dodo (bird).” then there was soy riding (yes, soy) on another pony (don’t. ask.), which after a while led bizarrely into an adult pony (there were kid and baby ponies, of course) lying on the ground muttering they were a bitter adult with emotional issues, and eventually to numerous accusations that certain ponies were making other ponies need therapy. somewhere in the middle there was the poof song (which consists of saying poof a million times), and repeated statements through the entire game of “i like pie!”
i’m pretty sure that i now need therapy.
kids told to get ready for bed and to go brush their teeth.
10yo: DIBS ON BRUSHING TEETH FIRST!!!!!
7yo: [laughs while grabbing the tooth brush and running around with it]
10yo: I CALLED DIBS. DIBS IS 9/10THS OF THE LAW!!!!!
me: [falls off couch laughing]
daddy and kids making a ton of noise in the other room.
me [looking at clock]: it’s past time to get ready for bed!! let’s go!
10yo [skipping into the room]: sorry, mama. daddy was teaching me how to shoot off people’s heads. (playing a weird, creepy xbox game, not IRL people)
me:……so glad daddy is teaching you the important things in life. *sigh*
came home from work and walked in on kids having dinner. i have no idea what they were talking about, but this is what i heard:
9yo [to 7yo, with emphasis]: exactly. YOU are a WOMAN of MANY changes.
i really need to get home earlier because i’m starting to worry what daddy is teaching them while i’m away.
i come out of the bathroom. both kids are snickering. i look around suspiciously but see nothing. 9yo whispers to 7yo and tries to get her to tell me something. 7yo refuses.
9yo: 7yo said you said she could use your labeler.
me: um, no, i didn’t. [narrows eyes at them] what did you do?
9yo: well, we made some labels….. [laughing behind her hand]
7yo: i typed in “bum” and made a label to stick on my bum!!! [giggling crazily and turning around to show me her bum]
9yo: and then we typed in poopy and pee……. [cracking up and showing me labels]
me: stop. just stop. now. [drops head sadly]
this is clearly daddy’s fault, as they KNOW i don’t want to hear about bums or toilets or whatever. maybe i should just be happy they are organizing?
ok, so i broke down and got one of those creepy elf on the shelf things. seriously, these things are disturbing looking. but they kids wanted one, so…yeah.
flipped thru a million elf ideas then decided on the elf hiding in the laundry room, roasting a marshmallow over a tea light candle with marshmallows scattered all over the place. apparently it was a success, as the kids were thrilled that they found him and totally loved what he was doing. (yay me)
my first regret over the stupid effin elf: the kids came and loudly expressed this thrill and excitement to us AT 6:37 THIS MORNING (sunday), scaring the crap out of us.
how many more days til the freaky little shit can go away again?
on the way home from holiday lighting, kids are in the back seat. they have 2 blue glow necklaces and they hooked them together so they have one large circle. i am thinking they are so cute, posing their heads together and saying it’s a picture frame. then they decide to play harry potter, and the circle is the entrance to gryffindor common room, and 9yo is the fat lady. and i’m thinking how creative they are and still so cute. and then…
9yo: i am the the fat lady. my name is….mrs. buttsky.
me: um, no.
6yo [laughing]: and my password is….pikachubums!
daddy and me: NO. JUST. NO.
so much for cute and creative.
soooo daddy bought a hockey mask a la Jason and was just chasing the kids around the house. my head and eardrums are completely traumatized by the shrieking.
9yo was running away, but 6yo is standing there shrieking without moving.
daddy: she would be the one in that commercial about the bad decisions who would run and hide behind the chainsaws…..
me: [dying laughing]
this was my putting the kids to bed tonight:
9yo [singing]: tractor! gonna see a chiropractor! he’s gonna fix my backtor! [dies laughing and rolling around on the bed]
[sidenote: clearly i need to rethink letting them watch the fairly oddparents]
6yo [as i tell her to get off the covers and under them]: booty up in the air! booty down on the ground! booty booty all around! [dissolves into giggling fit]
6yo: mama, i want to tell you something that happened on the playground that you will want to know about.
me [wary since she often tells me things i so do not want to know about]: will i really want to know about this?
6yo: yes, you will.
me: are you sure??
me [sighing]: okay, what?
6yo: there was a dead squirrel on the ground and one of the kids touched it.
9yo: and now they have cooties. or rabies!!!!
me: …that is exactly the kind of thing I DO NOT WANT TO KNOW! especially while i’m eating dinner.
6yo [giggling]: how am i supposed to know that?
me: [drops head onto table]
came home and went into playroom to say hi to kids.
9yo: hey, i’m just chillin in my underwear.
me: alrighty then [turns around and leaves room]
daddy was wrestling around with 8yo and poked her in the ribs to tickle her.
8yo: daddy, don’t poke my boob. if you poke my boob, my kids will end up having unpasteurized milk.
daddy told kids we were getting some of the zillion bags of stuffed animals in storage out to give to the fire department and police department to hand out to kids who are hurt or scared. surprisingly, this seemed to go over well. we tried to stop by the fire department, but no one answered, so we took the bags home. each child was holding on to one animal from each bag, which they were SUPPOSED to put back when we gave them away tomorrow. operative word being supposed.
8yo – the MASSIVE stuffed animal junkie – came to me a little while ago and said now that she had held bunny for a while, she just couldn’t give her up again. i told her that was not part of the deal. she didn’t say anything. a few minutes ago, she came out and said she needed to talk to daddy. she comes back and says that daddy told her it was ok for her to keep rabbit. this made me >.< except that she leaned back around the corner and said, “that was a pretty good deal daddy got me, dontcha think? and tomorrow i’m gonna pay him $2 of my allowance whether he wants it or not.” *sigh* well, what’s one more stuffed animal when you have like 50 million in the house anyway.
btw, daddy’s a sucker. just sayin.