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]
5yo just informed me that sometimes when she is tired, she gets daddy and me confused (!) and therefore i must wear a hat [mind you, one of her hats] so that she can tell the difference.
kids are making a sign for a “day spa” they are creating for me on my bed (read: total destruction of my bed which will not be cleaned up by them later).
8yo [to 5yo]: make the sign extra extra pretty.
5yo: but i can’t make it THAT pretty because….my arms are going to get tired.
8yo: ok, then, make it pretty, then take a break and rest your arms, then make it prettier.