Comic gold provided by my children.

This morning:
G laid in her bed yelling “Momyyy! Mommyyyyyy!”

“What?!” I yelled back.
“Come wake me up!”
They were arguing about something as usual as I walked them into school, then Payne yelled “Nuh uh! The only things that can disappear themselves are chameleons and God!”
Well, I suppose that’s a fair statement. 
   

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I don’t understand.

   
 
He is EATING as they wrestle.

WITH A SPOON.

That is how nonplussed he is about someone attempting to crush his spine.

They must have inherited a casual enjoyment of violence from somewhere. Viking ancestors?

Funny things my kids are responsible for this week.

Genevieve this morning, after spotting our neighbor’s FJ Cruiser: “Mommy! I saw Andrew’s car! The one with the wheel on its back!”.
Payne leaned towards me urgently in church yesterday. I bent an ear, expecting to hear an assertion of some sort of need of the digestive system. Instead I got a stage whisper of “Mommy! I can feel my bone tail!”.

I whispered back “Cool!” because what else is there to say, really?

Thanks skeleton book for that little bit of knowledge, and thanks family behind us in church, for not laughing like hyenas as my son apparently prodded his backside while kneeling…

And, 

   
 
That is all.

The boy is a genius.

He told me he wanted to show me his Ninja Turtle hands.

  
This is a much more accurate description than the one Genevieve gives. She calls them the “squishy finger turtles”?

I have pint sized teenagers.

God love ’em.

Everything I say to Payne is met with a bark of “No”, or “That’s not right Mommy” or “OKAY Okay okay…”.

But that’s pretty mild compared to the threenager next down the line.

G is in her room right now until dinner, because she was fighting with her brother. So far I’ve heard:

– “Nobody likes me. I’ve lost everything forever!”

– “I’m going to cry forever because mom is being so mean”. 

– “I hate you Mommy! I hate you hate you hate youuuuuuu.”

– “I hate this. I hate my dogs (?) and I hate everything.”

– “This is the worst day.”

  
Behold, the face of true suffering.

Maybe I should get her a journal.

And a therapist.

And some better parents. Heh.

It has been…

a….challenging summer, to say the least. 

Heh.

To be honest, they’re eating me alive.

As evidence, I submit today’s conversation with Genevieve.

G: “Are you angry?”

Me: “No. Why?”

G: “Then why is your line coming down?”

Me: “Huh? What line?”

G: “The one between your eyes! (Points)”

Me: (starts laughing hysterically) “No, honey. I’m just squinting in the sun.”

I still love them.