"The Girl told me that I am in love with Avery."
He retreats to the corner of the little cramped room where he sticks his nose in the corner and weeps some more. A muffled "but I don't! And it's not funny! She's making fun of me!" comes out in a blurry wail.
In comes the culprit.
"What!?" she says with long eyes.
"Get in my classroom RIGHT NOW!" I whisper.
Then the Girl wants to push the cart at Costco today and when I refuse to let her and the Oldest chides her about it, she whimpers, "I just don't feel a part of this family!"
To make myself feel better I mentally grab an economy pack of duct tape, rip it open, and start taping. Hands bound together, feet---maybe just one big tape to the cart. But, the most important detail is the major slab of tape over the mouth. That is a MUST. Oh how stupid I was, I would think. I tried so hard to get them to talk and now all I want is for them to silence themselves.
I clogged a toilet. Forget that. They don't admit fault. More like: the toilet's clogged!
I'm really hungry. I know I just ate. I am starving!
You keep sitting in the middle seat! I want ROOM!
They even keep each other in line and then argue about that!
You are supposed to do the dishes!
You ate all those chips! I thought you said yesterday you were going to watch what you ate!
Your room is a mess!
Stop sitting in that bathroom forever and a day! You know you are going to clog it!
Quit banging the glasses!
You promised Mom you would time yourself when playing games! That's it...I'm setting the timer!
Mom said TWO HOURS of playing piano, you're playing it whether you like it or not!
Drink all your milk right now!
You are not getting dessert!
The list goes on and on. Then someone wails (usually the one being bossed around) and then I am the one, bound by the wrists, brought to the scene of the crime with my head all a muddle.
It is the same song and dance every time and it doesn't stop. And it is all because they talk.
On our way out of Costco this afternoon the kids and I battled our way to the car in the freezing air with frozen yogurts in our hands. I have Raynaud's disease, for those of you that don't know, and when I touch frozen stuff for too long or when I am just plain cold, my digits go numb and it can be painful and very uncomfortable. By the time we reached the car I was spent but I had to get those stupid purchases in the trunk.
My twelve year old son, avoiding the whipping wind, stuck out his hand to jerk the door handle.
"Can I get some help?!" I yelped, an icicle hanging from my nose as I was struggling to drop a big box of Costco junk in the trunk.
"Are you crazy? It's freezing outside!" And he opened the car door went inside.
He of course, had the advantage as I did not want to leave the cart there (a big SUV was waiting for me to leave too) and get in the car and chew the boy out. I was so cold I was starting to burn but I knew I had to finish the whole job so I could get in the car and chase him down.
First, I got in the car and rubbed my hands together as I winced and almost cried, head down on the steering wheel for a few moments.
"I am starting to wish I helped you," he began.
I put on my gloves. (It would have helped if they had been on before, what a dork I am)
My beginning sentence started with, "You are as big as me...you are HUGE..........!!!!!"