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.


I know, it’s been forever.

Sorry, holidays, travel, depression, nothing happening, depression, you know the drill.

So this just happened, okay. Thing 2 has proudly told The Mommy earlier today that the 1990s are “the olden days” and that there was no electricity then.

Thing 2: *bangs on my door really hard*
Thing 2: *makes with a better type of knocking*
Me: Yeeeeeeessss?
Thing 2: How did you get to school when you were young?
Me: I drove myself, sweetie. (Hey now. High school is long enough ago.)
Thing 2: But how were there cars?
Me: You’d be surprised. My car out there? Was built in the 1990s.
Thing 2: ….oh.
Me: Yeah, I just broke your brain, didn’t I.
Thing 2: *closes the door and goes hollering off to his parents* SHE SAID THAT HER CAR WAS BUILT IN THE 1990S…

Yes. Yes, the earth was cooling in the 1990s and we all rode dinosaurs. Naturally.

Upon Thing 2

Thing 2 has an amazing mind. The things that go on inside his head are just…wow.

The door is knocked upon, and The Mommy and Thing 2 are standing there.
The Mommy: Go ahead, tell her about the Pilgrims and the Indians.
Thing 2: When the Pilgrims and the Indians met, the Indians wanted to blow them up with dynamite.
Me: Really.
Thing 2: But it didn’t work because all they had was bookshelf dynamite.
Me: I see!

Bookshelf dynamite. I’ll take ten kilos. Because of reasons.

Upon Thing 1

Thing 1 is really one of the most amazing kids I’ve ever seen. She has perfect pitch and is an imitator of just about anything. A gal after my own heart (I can voice the vast majority of the original 151 Pokemon). She watches Youtube videos like crazy lately, anything that’s flashy and shiny and most importantly, funny. After watching several of these, she has mastered the “faaaaaah-byew-luss!” that has become a stereotypical gay male exclamation. I freaking love it!

She also likes to copy me and the things I say. Which…I really need to watch my mouth. I mean, the kids are smart enough to know that the words the adults in the household say are not to be used by them anywhere outside the house, and they’re not old enough to wield these words, but argh. Miss Adventure is a profane, colourful person, and I swear that’s going to come back to bite me in the butt.

When Thing 1 gets older, she’s going to be the one the kids flock around because of her dry humour and wit. I can just see it now. And she’s going to cuss like a sailor…or me.

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?