My two favorite things about living in a two-story house are:
1) We can have company over till the wee hours of the morning and we can be noisy without worrying about waking the kids.
2) When the kids are driving me nuts, I can send them upstairs to play.
Because it means they’re coming back downstairs to bother me about something so monumentally idiotic that I’m sure I’ve fallen asleep folding laundry and I’m just having a crazy dream. For example, when my son came downstairs yesterday all righteous and indignant, whining in the most irritating voice ever heard on the planet Earth, “It’s not fair that Mar gets to play Princess Luna when it’s daytime because obviously Princess Luna is the Princess of Night, and she’s supposed to be sleeping during the day!”
Pre-children, if someone had warned me that I would be refereeing My Little Pony disputes I would have punched them in the face for spewing such nonsense. On the bright side, can I get a high five for not submitting to gender stereotypes?
2) “Ooooooo, when mom finds out, you’re gonna be in trouble.”
Oh sweet baby cheeses, when mom finds out what? I wish I had a How-Bad-Is-It meter, so that I could adjust my consternation to the appropriate level. That phrase is just too vague to gauge my reaction. It could mean anything from someone knocking over someone else’s Lego tower to someone putting a giant gash in the furniture. The not knowing is the hardest part!
3) “Quick! Let’s wash it before mom sees.”
It’s too late kids; we all know that whatever it is, it’s not gonna come out. Well, maybe after an hour with the steam-cleaner, like that one time with the paper and the leaky pen on the white carpet. HOW does a kid not notice that the pen has long ago ripped through the paper and they are now scribbling through a raggedy hole in the paper directly onto the white carpet? And how do they justify this scenario in their minds?
When I first saw the giant black stain, I threw my hands up in surrender, cried, and whimperingly asked the Hubs if now might not be the time to call the wood-flooring company and get a quote on those Brazilian Cherry floors. It is thanks to an hour of Hubs’ time that you can hardly see the stain now!
4) “Great! Now it’s broken.”
Just throw it out, kids. Don’t even tell me what it was. I once lived out of a single suitcase in Italy for five weeks and laundered my clothes in a sink. I’m sure whatever it is that’s broken, I can live without it.
5) “Is it dead?”
Again, unless it’s the dog, just put in the trash; I don’t want to know.
6) “Uh-oh. It’s about to overflow!”
This is definitely NOT a situation where I don’t want to know. My son, with his giant super-human shits, clogs the toilet at least once per week. And when I hear these words, I immediately possess two additional super-powers: Super-speed, and the ability to fly. My feet don’t even touch the stairs once I’ve retrieved the plunger from the downstairs bathroom at light-speed. One second I’m sitting at the computer writing a blog, and the next second I’m splashing poop-water on my ankles. Better than a poop-flood all over the floor though, am I right? And then I take a nice relaxing bath in a vat of bleach.
Okay, no words in that one, but it still sends chills down my spine, and I don’t think we need any more elaboration than that, do we?
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