What About the Children?
No new news from the Mansion. The boys are currently having a
Wrestle Royale in the living room. I hear thumps and squeals. If
I hear crying, I will investigate. Boys will be boys. You know that
old saying: It's all fun and games until the big one splits the little
one's head open and they both lie about it until I find the little one
wrapped up like a burrito in his Winnie-the-Pooh sleeping bag and
blood is pouring from a scalp wound and it takes three paper towels
to soak it up and I casually mention that we may have to go to the
ER for stitches and there might be some questions from the docs
and the big one tells three different stories but I finally get the truth
that it was a game of tug-o-war gone bad with the belt to a red
terry cloth robe and the little one said, "Let go!" so the big one
granted his wish and let go from his position atop the couch without
informing the little one, who sailed backwards and cracked his head
on the wooden stair post.
The kids bought some fireworks the other day, and have made them
last this year, stringing them out to a few every night. We will get
more before the 4th. Last night's big event was putting firecrackers
in a tomato that had a bad spot. It was quite the success. The pets
hate the fireworks, and slink away under the porch or camper,
foregoing their new favorite pastime of rolling on a skinless,
headless rabbit carcass that lies near the left front tire of the truck.
We made a trip to town around noon to mail some bills. I invested
$30 of my $100-big-winner lottery ticket to buy some more tickets.
We only won $25 of it back, but that's still pretty good. I am not
complaining.
I let the kids have fast food, and my large SUV sounded like my
grandpa's hog lot right after he dumped a bucket of corn on the
ground. I'm not sure of the proper eating-fast-food-in-a-large-
SUV etiquette, but I'm pretty sure it would include: Chew with
your mouth closed. My boys are animals. Expensive animals.
But neither of them has a mink coat with 4 sleeves and a hood.
When we got home, #1 son stayed on the porch to pet his striped
yellow cat, Genius. He came in and said, "Mom, I know Genius
loves me, but he was licking my butt while I petted him. He's never
done that before." He then turned around to show me a wet spot
about the size of a baseball on his left hip. "I thought it was his spit,
Mom, but it's really grease from where I sat on a fry in the car."
NO MINK COAT FOR YOU!
Wrestle Royale in the living room. I hear thumps and squeals. If
I hear crying, I will investigate. Boys will be boys. You know that
old saying: It's all fun and games until the big one splits the little
one's head open and they both lie about it until I find the little one
wrapped up like a burrito in his Winnie-the-Pooh sleeping bag and
blood is pouring from a scalp wound and it takes three paper towels
to soak it up and I casually mention that we may have to go to the
ER for stitches and there might be some questions from the docs
and the big one tells three different stories but I finally get the truth
that it was a game of tug-o-war gone bad with the belt to a red
terry cloth robe and the little one said, "Let go!" so the big one
granted his wish and let go from his position atop the couch without
informing the little one, who sailed backwards and cracked his head
on the wooden stair post.
The kids bought some fireworks the other day, and have made them
last this year, stringing them out to a few every night. We will get
more before the 4th. Last night's big event was putting firecrackers
in a tomato that had a bad spot. It was quite the success. The pets
hate the fireworks, and slink away under the porch or camper,
foregoing their new favorite pastime of rolling on a skinless,
headless rabbit carcass that lies near the left front tire of the truck.
We made a trip to town around noon to mail some bills. I invested
$30 of my $100-big-winner lottery ticket to buy some more tickets.
We only won $25 of it back, but that's still pretty good. I am not
complaining.
I let the kids have fast food, and my large SUV sounded like my
grandpa's hog lot right after he dumped a bucket of corn on the
ground. I'm not sure of the proper eating-fast-food-in-a-large-
SUV etiquette, but I'm pretty sure it would include: Chew with
your mouth closed. My boys are animals. Expensive animals.
But neither of them has a mink coat with 4 sleeves and a hood.
When we got home, #1 son stayed on the porch to pet his striped
yellow cat, Genius. He came in and said, "Mom, I know Genius
loves me, but he was licking my butt while I petted him. He's never
done that before." He then turned around to show me a wet spot
about the size of a baseball on his left hip. "I thought it was his spit,
Mom, but it's really grease from where I sat on a fry in the car."
NO MINK COAT FOR YOU!
posted by Hillbilly Mom at 4:12 PM
3 Comments:
And the cat is named Genius????
Day before yesterday Sam came in with three red lines down the side of his face. I asked what had happened and he said his sister had scratched him. The big sister. The big, angry sister with lots of aggression that I find disturbing for a 9 year old girl. Yikes. She barely missed his eye. She said he scratched her on the leg, but I never did see so much as a mark. But boy howdy, did she exact her revenge. Only six weeks till school starts again.......
Mrs.,
The boy named him. The kid was 8. We went out to a teacher friend's house, because she had two litters of kittens her husband was making her get rid of. Where's Diva when you need her?
This little yellow kitten climbed out of the big box o'kitties and stood on my boy's foot. He picked him up for a few minutes, and tried to put him back. That cat wouldn't stay in the box. The boy walked away, and that kitten still followed him and sat on his foot and looked up at him, "Meowww."
My boy said, "This is the best one, Mom. I'm going to name him Genius."
That cat will stand on his back feet and try to open the kitchen doorknob with his front feet. He is an outside cat, but wants in to see what he's missing.
Diva,
She sounds like my oldest. Revenge is a dish best served every 2 minutes, in his opinion.
Post a Comment
<< Home