Movies Taken Too Far

Okay, so The Mommy ended up with a two-pound marshmallow thanks to the Internet. No, I don’t get it either, but there you go. When it showed up on our doorstep, she kept yelling “IT’S SO FLUFFY!” until I finally yelled back “ARE YOU GONNA DIE?!” “YES!” Indeed, we like our movies around here and Despicable Me is on the current kiddie rotation. And she kept saying “It’s so fluffy, I’m gonna DIE!” like you do.

Fast forward to today. We are doing a double birthday party since both The Daddy’s father and sister have birthdays around now. The Mommy decides, in lieu of a cake, to go ahead and let everyone dig into the marshmallow. For some reason, Thing 1 has gotten it into her head that anyone who eats the marshmallow will die. So when I take a big piece and stuff it in my mouth, she yells “Are you gonna die, Miss Adventure?!” Thinking she’s playing with the movie line, I say “YES!” and finish poking it into my gawp. (Big marshmallows are really sticky, FYI.)

Cue nuclear meltdown. “Don’t die, Miss Adventure! DON’T DIE!” I laugh, but then she starts sobbing. “DON’T DIE, MISS ADVENTURE! DON’T DIE!” Insert facepalm here. And much reassurances that I’m not going anywhere and she’s stuck with me right here, right now. What it took to get her down…let’s just say that with well-meaning but unhelpful help, I was ready to chug my vodka-and-ginger-ale, which given that I’m completely skint right now and hoarding what little liquor I have, should give you an idea.

Of course, Thing 3 loves to make things worse. “Wanna die, Mommy!” and sticks his handout for some marshmallow. “Gonna die!” he says triumphantly as he stuffs it into his mouth.

My life.


What the…

So Thing 1 and Thing 2 have had “What the…” down for quite awhile. They also know all the curse words because we all use them. They know they can’t use them at school and we don’t like them using them here at home.

First story: Thing 2 is studying for the next stripe on his belt, next colour, whatever the kids in taekwondo do. Anyway, there’s facts you have to remember, including acronyms. Such as WTF, which is….



World Taekwondo Federation.

Thing 2 was puzzling over it on his written sheet and Thing 1 came over to help him. “It says what the fuck, Thing 2.” “No it doesn’t!” “Yes it does, WTF, what the fuck.”

Good god, these kiddos.

Tonight I discovered that Thing 3 has added a new phrase to his repertoire. “Oh shit.” Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Said rather much like “Oshi” since he’s still not that great at enunciating. Needless to say, I will NOT thank him for his good words (which I do if he clearly tells me what he wants without whining or garbling) if he pops that out at me.

My life, people. The Daddy was also walking around on the half-roof (right below the dormer windows) yesterday. I still have no idea why, but he seemed to be on a mission.


Me: *dragging her laundry downstairs*
Thing 2: Thank you for burping!
Me: I didn’t burp.
Thing 2: I DID!
Me: When you burp, you say “Excuse me.”
Thing 2: No, you say THANK YOU FOR BURPING!
Me: No you don’t.
Thing 2: YES YOU DO!
Me: That’s not nice.
Thing 2: YES IT IS!
Me: Tisn’t.
Thing 2: YES IT IS!
Me: *heads back upstairs*
Thing 2: *fake burp* THANK YOU FOR BURPING!

Reason for the Season

It is officially time.

Yes, I am aware Thanksgiving has yet to pass. I also have a Christmas Hello Kitty that is on perma-display in my room.

But. The Things have just had the Fear of Santa instilled in them for the year.

This is the one good thing about the Christmas season. Instead of sending the kids to bed in their rooms for naughtiness or being put on yellow (school discipline structure we’ve adopted at home to stay consistent), we now get to tell them that Santa sees their naughtiness and will take action accordingly.

You see, we have snowglobes. Beautiful, Christmas-y snowglobes. Which are magic. No, really. Don’t believe me? Why else would the TSA ban them? Because broken magic leads to crazy delays and people being sent to Portland when they should have gone to Pittsburgh. Snowglobes are fuckin’ magic, okay.

Santa sees the Things through the snowglobes. And it doesn’t matter where in the house they are in relation to the snowglobes…Santa can see everything. All the time. It’s a direct link to the North Pole. And if you don’t think there’s a whole mission control center for this type of thing…well, not my fault Santa hasn’t brought YOU anything for years.

Thing 2 would not stop rolling his eyes during lunch today. He interrupted me for the last freaking time and I finally stated, in a rather doom-y tone, “Your input is not required.” Oh, THAT shut him up. For like, fifteen seconds, but it was fifteen seconds of blessed silence. And then he rolled his eyes. “If you keep rolling your eyes at me they’ll get stuck that way.” The Mommy had enough by that point and OUT CAME THE SNOWGLOBES.

I look forward to the ensuing frustration meltdowns. Because you cannot argue with Santa. Santa is a honey badger and does not give a shit about the extenuating circumstances in your head. So be good, for goodness sake!

Why you don’t put Miss Adventure in charge.

This all went down on Facebook. Work with me here. A day in the life, wherein The Mommy has to take Thing 1 to different things so I get to deal with Thing 2 and Thing 3. About ten hours, give or take.

Me: The kitten is being bullied by the bunny, the 3 year old wants to eat me because I’m not psychic and I want to eat HIM because those aren’t real WORDS just Dadaist nonsense spoken in a whine and sweet baby buddha is it preschool time yet?! I have also been awake since approximately 5am. This may factor into a lot of the irritation. And the purrbox has transplanted to my lap and is mad and whiny that my hands are typing and not petting.
The Mommy: popcorn?
Me: No, Mr. Popcorn is at school and only tried to give me crap once this morning.
The Mommy: once? improvement! score!
Me: Very much improvement and it was only “*ducks into shower for two minutes* I took a shower already!” “You did NOT, get your wet butt back in there.” And he did.
The Mommy: you know he is afraid of you, right? he says you are grumpy and dangerous
Me: Compare that to Thing 3 who decided to kick off his diaper once he’d freed one leg. What shall I do with the anointed bathmat? 😛
All of Column A, I’m not sure how I qualify for Column B, lol.
The Mommy: who anointed it? kid or kitten?
Me: Kid. Like I said, we had Diaper Rockettes at 7am.
The Mommy: *facepalm*
Me: Your kids are very much your kids, lol. Thing 3 is in my room now happily pointing at both the kitten and my cat and trying to pet them.
The Mommy: Oh wow. 20 minutes till preschool. you can do this. :p
Me: Someone has just learnt of the existence of ponies. {Editor’s note: My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic.} And he can already do the beginning of the theme song. You’ve got another brony in the household.
The Mommy: oh no you didn’t
oh my god
Me: This is what happens when I’m left alone at 6:30am to herd your boys around. 😛 I didn’t poke your DVR for it, IT WAS JUST ON 😛

And later…

Me: 3 year old napped for 15min then I had to wake him to come get the 5 year old. I deserve diamonds for lugging that heavy sack of wailing wet flour out the door and into my backseat!
The Pet Housewife likes this.

Me: We are playing how to buckle your seatbelt while we wait. Thing 3 is pooping ferociously, and has cheerfully admitted such. Oh my life.
The Mommy: Oh dear lord
Me: Diamonds, madam. DIAMONDS.

Me: Everyone home safely in one piece, although when Thing 3 began faux-snoring to amuse himself in the car, we both about split ourselves giggling.
The Mommy likes this.

Me: Making zerbert noises while pointing as he sneak-crawls past your doorway seeing how long it takes for you to notice him? Insta-giggling toddler.

Me: Cars and trains are parasailing down our stairs while I’m begged to come see the carnage. Is it just me or does Thing 3 watch too much Top Gear?
College Buddy: Li’l Stig costume for next Halloween?