When you tell your boys that the 37 days of procrastinating sorting the recycling is up and to get out to the garage to get it done.
And you hear howling.
All the way through the heavy garage door, into the mudroom, across the living room and into your office.
a) ignore it
(I tried this first. It didn't work)
b) run in there yelling and swinging
(I know you would think this would be my first bet, but I surprised myself and didn't go this route)
c) quietly open the door to find one on the ground screaming "he choked me" and the other backing away yelling "he was attacking me", and calmly utter the words, "if these bottles are not done in 20 minutes, you have NO idea the wrath that will be unleashed upon your heads".
(I think the crazy eyes and the death whisper might have worked.
Chokey jumped up and wiped the crocodile tears away the Attacked started flinging bottles so fast he was almost a skinny little blur).
Because, I'll tell you, when Gorgeous George told me that the Universal Studios Haunted House was "Horror Movie Museum" and I believed him, it wasn't funny at all.
Especially, Chuckie chasing me down a hallway. It did make me realize that given flight or fight, I choose flight.
Flight with lots of swearing.
GG always tells me that I'm mean.
Maybe I am a bit mean, because as much as that Haunted House was the bottom-line WORST part of our trip for me, I could barely wait to find our friends and help him convince the guys to go with GG through the BEST Haunted House EVER.
PS The best part of that video was the daughter throwing her mom under the bus yelling "Take her! Take her!
One time, when I was a kid, I faked being sick for one whole week.
I think the whole thing started with a test I "forgot" to study for.
The following Monday, my mom dragged me to the doctor's office.
The doctor popped a thermometer in my mouth and left the room.
I prompty removed the thermometer and began rubbing it frantically on my leg in order to heat it up to show the medical world & my mother how sick I really was.
I ended up rubbing so frantically, I either hit the metal leg on the chair or dropped it. I can't remember exactly which one of those things happened but the result was a shattered thermometer (which I may or may not have blamed on my weakened state) and mercury all over the floor (if I had of known about mercury poisoning at that point in my criminal career I probably would have tried to work that into my story somewhere).
I awoke this morning to the sounds of my youngest wretching in the bathroom.
My kids are weirdly polite when they are ill.
They are constantly apologizing for waking us and inconveniencing us.
Like I said, weird.
After 2 hours throwing up every 20 minutes or so, I made the call to the school to let them know, that however disappointing it was for his class, nay, the entire school, Lucas would be staying home sick today.
8:35 rolls around and the boy comes in my room and asks when I was planning on taking him to school.
When I informed him that there was no school in his near future, he begged, cajoled and almost faked tears to try and convince me to let him go.
He even went as far as to say "there's a practice test for the upcoming Math test" (the math test he's been telling me that there is no need to study for because he is so gifted naturally at the Mathematics).
I wonder now if Gorgeous George and I took the "suck it up" thing" to far when the kids were little.
I guess the good thing is that when there are actual tears, we know that there is something *really* wrong.
But I still am adding it to my long list of weird things I don't understand about my kids.