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]

i blame daddy

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?