Mo-o-om (3 Syllables)

So my kids fly to Idaho (or Spokane, Washington, actually) this morning... I thought I would allow you to be a fly on the wall from when I got home from work at five last night.


“Mo-o-om, where's dad's camera case?” (I heard this as camera and case)

Response: find camera next to my laptop, put in case, hand off to daughter.

“No-o-o; I don't nee-ee-ed the caaaa-mer-a.”

“Mo-o-om, where are my skinny jeans?” (from son in basement)

Response: remove camera from case, hand daughter case, noting boyfriend (hers, not mine) lurking quietly in corner; I exit, shout from top of stairs, “I need to do some laundry!”

“They're not the-ere!”

“They're there.”

“No, I looked. They're not there!”

“They are. I saw them.”

“Theyyyyyyyy're no-o-ot there!”

“Mo-o-om!” (daughter, upstairs again, though I am now in basement noting the hubby is well trained... all laundry is going.  Consider favors to bestow on him. Jerk self back to reality.)

Response: “What?!” (shouted through floor)

“Come he-ere!”

Response: Climb stairs, from living room shout, “What?”

“I forgot my cap and goggles at practice.”

“Call D**** and ask her to get them for you.”

“No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o, I have to have them! I can't swim when I'm in Idaho.”

Response: fetch own personal goggles from room and bring to daughter.

“No these are crap!” (note the short crisp words of rejection--crap is not a word one needs to drag out)

Response: Deep breathe in effort to not strangle daughter. Return goggles to my room.

“Then I'm not swimming!”

Response: Ingore ingrate.

“Mo-o-om!” (from basement) “Where are my skinny jeans?”

“In the laundry!” (considers hail Mary, though has never been Catholic)

Hubby the saint: “I put everything in the laundry because Sam wanted those jeans.” (remember I was considering considerable favors)

AHA! PROOF!

“Momyouneedtotakemetothestorefordeoderant.”

“We have...”

“No, no, no; it'sCRAP!”

“It's fine. We've got three of the Secrets.”

“SmellslikeCRAP.”

*heavy sigh *

“I'll tell you what. You can just give me my money you owe me, and we will go.”

*deep breathing* "We will go after dinner. I will get you guys some snacks, too.”

(Son has arrived upstairs, begins hopping) “Snacks? Snacks? What kind of snacks?” (still bouncing: son likes snacks)

“Mostly healthy. It's breakfast time. But maybe a pack of Pop Tarts or something.”

“Yes!”


******

I'd like to say it ended there, but in actuality, it continues as you read. Fortunately, I pass them off at 7am, and they are somebody ELSE'S problem for a week. Not that I won't hear about anything they do that indicates bad parenting, but I DO know they behave better away from me, at least for a couple days.

But for NOW... I have a week off... at least during my down time. I plan to FINALLY finish typing my Cozy, and hopefully make SIGNIFICANT progress on the editing.

So Happy HING Day!!!!