Frantic Feeding Frenzy

It’s become an unofficial contest.

A challenge of sorts.

How quickly can these two boys of mine eat all the food in the house?

Or better yet…

All the newly purchased groceries?

Before they’re even out of the shopping bags?

Last week, I bought an overflowing cart full of groceries on Saturday.

We were nearly out of food by Tuesday.

Almost nothing left for dinner.

Almost nothing left to pack for school lunches.

One over-dramatic child resorted to drinking from an expired gallon of water from our makeshift storm shelter closet.

(Wait… Water actually expires?!?)

What’s next on the to-eat list, Jett’s dog food?

At least The Bigly Bestest doesn’t eat all his food in one sitting.

Gotta love teenagers.

Especially boys.

The time it takes teenage boys to eat seems to be directly proportionate to the quantity.

For instance:

A box of eight waffles will get devoured in approximately eight seconds.

Which averages out to one second per waffle.

And a six-pack of yogurt cups will last all of six seconds.

This pattern continues in a sickening whirlwind for several minutes.

Until all that’s left are raisins.

And so they move on to rummaging in my purse.

Until they gleefully discover a tin of mints.

Snacking on mints.

Wow.

At least these two haven’t yet resorted to drinking maple syrup out of the jar for a quick pick-me-up.

Sheesh.

They’ll claim that there’s nothing to eat, when clearly there is something still left.

Sure, it may not always be their first choice.

But when you’re snacking on mints, is that really the time to be picky?

How can you tell me you refuse to eat blackberries?

So don’t tell me there’s no food in the house when there are perfectly good berries here.

Eat the damn berries!

Oh, you’re starving?

But not enough to eat that delicious asparagus sauté , huh?

Or some plain yogurt?

Well, that’s fine.

More for me!

And whatever we don’t eat, we apparently save for the ants.

That’s right.

Ants.

Entire freaking colonies of ants.

Because we have yet to master the art of properly closing bags when we’re done snacking.

And so they march across the bottom shelf of the pantry, systematically working their way up the shelves like some kind of microscopic parade.

Until they’ve effectively invaded every last item in the kitchen pantry.

Cereal boxes.

Crackers.

Cheese puffs.

Jett’s special dog treats.

Well.

At least there was hardly any food left to begin with.

~Happy Friday, friends! Have a great weekend!~

Actual footage from our mealtime frenzies.

Actual footage from our mealtime frenzies.

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Driving Mr. Mascot, Part 2

Slow down.

Slow down!!

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SLOW THE @&*% DOWN!!!

With 30 minutes to spare after dropping my younger child off at his guitar lesson…

It was the perfect opportunity to continue working with my older son (a.k.a. Mascot Boy) on his driving skills.

And so he took the wheel.

Figuring it was only three miles from the music school to our house, it wouldn’t necessarily be an unreasonable walk for my younger one if scary driver Mascot Boy and I didn’t make it back alive from driving practice.

Unfortunately, the fact that it’s been unseasonably hot out made it a less than optimal scenario.

But it’s always good to have a plan, right?

Mr. Mascot decided he’d like to practice in a shopping parking lot that day.

Did you know different rules apply in parking lots?

Namely, there are no rules .

Especially in a Walmart parking lot.

Between vehicles blindly pulling out in front of other traffic with no regard to right of way, and overall mayhem in general…

The very notion of safe driving seems to go right down the toilet.

All I knew is that I sure as hell didn’t want to die in the Walmart parking lot.

I’d rather get eaten by my dog.

Not that my precious Jett would ever eat me.

But still.

Dying at Walmart/in the Walmart parking lot is definitely not the way I’d like to go.

Especially with a 16-year-old driver behind the wheel.

And not only does this 16-year-old believe he already knows everything there is possibly to know about driving…

I’ve somehow recently ended up with two backseat drivers whenever I’m driving.

Because even though my 13-year-old hasn’t had any formal driving instruction, he too  believes he now magically knows everything there is to know about driving.

Specifically, that he and his brother know everything.

And I, the driver with two decades of experience, know nothing.

As if I suddenly need coaching on how to safely maneuver a vehicle.

That didn’t feel like a complete stop.

You forgot your turn signal! Right in front of that cop over there!

I’m pretty sure even I have better judgement than you!

Meanwhile, Mr. Mascot has taken a liking to barreling full-speed toward red lights.

I’m starting to think I ought to be wearing a blindfold when I’m in the passenger seat.

He attempted to park next to the only car in the back row of the parking lot.

Which happened to be a BMW vaguely resembling The Batmobile.

Which happened to be one that we really can’t afford to gently nudge from behind or do a drive-by mirror sideswipe on.

After one unsuccessful attempt of parking straight in between the lines, I strongly encouraged him to find a different spot.

Away from other cars.

All other cars.

After surviving the Walmart parking lot, we headed back to the music school to pick up child number two.

We arrived safely.

The parking lot was under heavy construction.

So we soared over a massive mud bump, Dukes of Hazzard style.

But ultimately, we didn’t get pulled over by any cops.

And even more importantly, we survived.

So it’s a win.

I’ve come to realize that my son’s learning to drive comes at a price.

The expense of fuel.

And the expense of my sanity.

Which has long been precariously dangling by a thin thread.

Oh, but at least I’m getting a break from driving, right?

If your idea of a break is anxiety, panic, or a heart attack, then yes.

Thanks to me, my dear child, you are gaining experience.

Thanks to you, my dear child, I seem to be losing experience.

Or my sanity.

One of the two.

Or both.

~Happy Saturday, friends! Click here if you’d like to read Part 1 of our exciting driving experiences. Have a great weekend, and watch out for nervous Student  Drivers and their equally terrified parents! Haha!~

The Danger Zone... it's a real thing.

The Danger Zone… it’s a real thing.

Dog Days of Summer Break, Part 2

Get off the horse!!!

I mean, the dog!

The dog is not a horse!

I don’t care if you’re not actually sitting on him.

Does he look like he’s enjoying himself?!?

Well.

Looks like we’re ending the summer the same way we started it.

By tormenting the poor dog.

Since The Bigly Bestest Doggie hasn’t yet mastered eating at a table while seated in a chair, my boys have evidently moved on to bigger, better things.

Like transforming him into a horse.

Ah, well.

School starts next week.

So while the boys’ summer break is coming to a close…

The doggie’s break is finally about to start.

And just in time.

Who knows?

In another week, they might’ve turned him into a trash-eating goat.

Yikes!

~Happy Friday, friends! Can you believe it’s almost time for school again?! Where does the time go?~

Do I look like a horse? It's back to school for you, boy!

Do I look like a horse? It’s back to school for you, boy!

Driving Mr. Mascot

Who knows?

I might be a better driver than you!

And I won’t get any tickets!

Unlike you…

And if YOU keep talking, you’re going to be riding in the trunk.

Eyes on the road!

The light is green!

Let’s move it!

My oldest son, the high school mascot boy, started Driver’s Ed this week.

I’ve never seen that child take such dedicated interest in learning anything.

Ever.

Granted, the monster was a natural on his dirt bike all those years ago.

And I always pictured him to be a decent driver.

When the time came.

Which, evidently, is right now.

After just one day of class, he was already an expert.

Monitoring my speed.

Correcting my hand position on the steering wheel.

Pointing out all the road signs that I’ll obviously fail to pay attention to.

Suddenly, I have new appreciation for the meaning of driving someone crazy.

Not only won’t I be getting tickets like you, I also have way better sense of direction!

Hey! You’re going over the speed limit again!

OMG! GET OUT!

Of course, I didn’t actually throw him out of the car.

But his future as a pedestrian was looking increasingly appealing.

We coasted along to the ultimate soundtrack to insanity:

Crazy Train.

Gangnam Style.

Hakuna Matata.

The thumping music rattled my brain and bones as the rearview mirror reverberated in concurrence.

Then flashing train lights derailed my thoughts.

Oh, shit!

Not again!

Those trains sometimes take forever to pass.

Or worse yet, they’ll come to a complete stop out of the blue, stranding lines of cars for hours.

So yeah, I was less than pleased.

And so was my son.

But not because of the train.

Apparently, that was the second inappropriate word I’d used in just a matter of minutes.

Figuring I was on a roll, he helpfully downloaded a Bleep app on my phone to censor my  inappropriate moments.

Fortunately, the train passed in a timely manner.

And we were on our way again.

I’m probably already a better driver than you’ll ever be!

I’m tempted to take both hands off the wheel and drive with my mouth.

Just clamp my teeth on the wheel, and see how well that works.

That’ll show him…

Show him what, I don’t exactly know.

At least render him speechless for a moment, perhaps?

But I really can’t afford to drive erratically like that.

Sure, it would set a rather poor example for my child.

And also, I’ve somehow already managed to get pulled over twice in three years in No Man’s Land.

Which amounts to more than I had ever been pulled over in all my years of driving.

Collectively.

There’s a line in my son’s driving handbook that cracked me up when I first read it:

Avoid turning your car into a deadly weapon!

Well, my boy nearly broke protocol the first time ever behind the wheel.

Yesterday, he officially got his Learner’s Permit after acing the written test.

And so on the way to Driver’s Ed this afternoon, my favorite mascot thought he’d surprise me by starting the car before I made my way out the door.

Oh, but that wasn’t all.

He proceeded to throw the car into reverse…

And then panicked as he realized he didn’t actually know how to stop the car.

He barreled out of the garage and down the driveway at Nascar speeds, as I ran after him like a crazed woman being chased by the devil himself.

STOP THE CAR!!!

STOP THE #@&%*# CAR!!!

The car jerked to an abrupt halt straight across the street, halfway up the neighbor’s driveway.

Thank God the neighbor wasn’t home.

That guy never misses a thing.

GET OUT!

YOU ARE DONE!!!

The brake is NOT just a decorative item!

Use it!

Before I drop dead of a heart attack in the middle of this road!

And to think, this is only the beginning.

Did I mention I’m two days into a 14 day detox?

So I can’t even calm my frazzled nerves with a drink.

Oh #@&%!!!

~Happy Friday, friends! Aren’t teenagers the best? Never a dull moment. Have a terrific weekend!~

At this rate, I'm gonna need to wear this thing around my neck like a cowbell.

At this rate, I’m gonna need to wear this thing around my neck like a cowbell.

Dog Days of Summer Break

I’m boooorrred!!!

Go walk the dog.

But it’s too hot!!!

Fine. Read a book.

What is this, some kind of punishment?

Take a walk to the pool and go for a swim.

No. I don’t feel like getting wet.

Okay, then. Clean your room.

What?!? Why?

And that was only day three of summer break.

It’s hard to be a kid.

There’s never anything fun to do.

But somehow, all your friends are doing fun things.

Without you.

You know so.

Because it’s all right there on Snapchat.

And so the only plausible way to entertain yourself is to torment the dog.

I mean, teach the dog new tricks.

Like how to eat his doggie treat while pretending to be the civilized human being that he clearly is not.

At a table.

While sitting in a chair.

Because how could that be a bad idea?

Oh, right.

It’s gonna be a long summer…

Is this your idea of a good time? Seriously? Go back to school, you sadistic kids!

Is this your idea of a good time? Seriously? Go back to school, you sadistic kids!

~Happy Friday, friends! Isn’t summertime the best? Hope you all have a great weekend!~

Ocean Commotion

This is a true tale.

A tale of ocean brawling.

Oh, and also of ocean snatching.

But we’ll get back to that in a moment.

It all started ten years ago, on a family vacation to Legoland California.

No trip to a coastal destination is ever complete without visiting the ocean.

At least, not in my opinion.

My then-2 year old son was thoroughly enjoying his second trip ever to the Pacific Ocean, collecting seashells and enjoying the feel of sand beneath his feet.

Until a temperamental wave crashed and leveled him onto the shore like a beached whale.

A few minutes later, he sat deep in thought on his ocean-themed beach towel with his plastic sand pail and shovel in hand, vengefully crafting his revenge.

Half an hour later, he left the Pacific Ocean with an ominous declaration:

I’ll get you, water!

Fast forward 10 years.

We had the privilege of visiting the Atlantic Ocean on our most recent road trip a few weeks ago.

And it was obviously time for payback.

Come at me!

My revenge-seeking child took a huge step backward, away from the shore, before continuing his tirade.

Come on! Show me what you’ve got!

Ah.

Coast to coast ocean brawling at its finest.

Then he stooped down to admire a cluster of seashells that had washed onto the shore.

Fortunately, he managed to escape the wrath of the Atlantic Ocean…

This time around.

Now, back to that whole ocean snatching incident…

My husband and I had set out with the intention of capturing an incredible sunrise on the beach.

And capture a sunrise we did.

Along with half the Atlantic Ocean.

Armed with our makeshift ocean snatching kit consisting of a freshly guzzled glacier cherry Gatorade bottle that I’d forced upon my husband…

Along with a Ziplock freezer bag that we’d been using as our travel toiletry bag and an R2D2 tote bag that held just the right amount of ocean loot.

Meanwhile, our trusty getaway mobile, a nondescript rental mini van with Oklahoma license plates, sat in the shadows of the parking lot.

It was a chilly 40-something degrees out that morning.

I couldn’t feel my toes.

But it was absolutely worth it.

For witnessing a majestic sunrise on the beach.

And feeling the lush sand beneath my feet.

And taking home the best souvenir money can’t buy.

Determined to make my very own authentic mini beach replica upon returning home, I needed to make the most of the opportunity.

And so we left the beach with bulging pockets full of seashells, a bottle full of Atlantic Ocean water, and a bag of Atlantic Ocean sand.

I absolutely love the ocean.

I love the melodious waves.

I love the paradoxical peaceful calm that dissipates with the intense crash of waves to the shore.

And I especially love majestic sunrises and sunsets.

Sunsets on the Pacific.

Sunrises on the Atlantic.

We had sacrificed precious sleep time to rise early on our vacation, just to witness a sunrise over the ocean.

But it was a sacrifice I was happy to make.

Did I mention I also love dolphins?

Unfortunately, we didn’t encounter any on this trip.

Which was probably just as well.

I might’ve been tempted to capture one and give it new life in my bathtub.

Wow.

I’m not just quirky, I’m apparently full-on crazy too.

Oh well.

I could happily live on the ocean forever.

But for now, I’m still working on creating my mini beach masterpiece.

I could really use my very own at-home oasis.

In the meantime, I’ve evidently become an ocean kleptomaniac.

I’m not sure what this says about my sanity…

But I’m okay with it.

More or less.

Now, I just need to devise a way to snatch a baby palm tree…

~Happy Saturday, friends! Can you tell I love the beach? The ocean is the most therapeutic place on earth, and I would totally live there if I could. One day…~

My prized ocean loot collection...

My prized ocean loot collection…

Rogue Rotisserie Nosh

More skin!

Give me more skin!

Ooh, it’s so soft!

And the bone is so weak!

Yeah.

So, I made the mistake of buying a rotisserie chicken.

For the boys, not myself.

I don’t eat meat.

And I’d prefer not to look at it, either.

But life is seldom so accommodating.

And so I sit there, watching my child wave around some chunk of chicken that appears to still have a butt attached.

Or maybe it’s a thigh.

Either way, I don’t want any part of it.

Yet there he sits, unwittingly recreating the scene from Star Wars: The Last Jedi, when Chewbacca prepares to devour a freshly prepped Porg in front of all the other Porgs.

Months later,  I still can’t help but wonder-

Was that Mama Porg?

Or one of their idolized big brothers?

Or perhaps it was their wise, Yoda-like grandfather figure?

I’ll never be able to look at Chewbacca the same way.

At any rate, the chunk of rotisserie chicken looked eerily like the rotisserie Porg in that moment.

No, my son doesn’t particularly resemble Chewy, aside from the dark brown fur.

I mean, hair.

But they both make similar, indecipherable noises.

Hmmm.

Maybe my son is actually a Porg-eating Chewbacca progeny…

Whoa.

I’ve gotten a bit off topic.

As the child continues to exhibit more animal-like conduct than an actual animal, I don’t know whether to be mildly amused, mortified, or just downright disgusted.

The Bigly Bestest Doggie surreptitiously creeps into the kitchen.

With big puppy dog eyes and preemptive lip smacking, he secures his position.

He settles in under the kitchen table and enthusiastically began his complimentary floor licking service.

Maybe, just maybe.

It’s no secret kids are notorious for getting more food on the floor than actually into their mouths.

I sadistically find myself almost wishing the doggie will leap up onto the kitchen table and scarf down the rest of chicken, effectively putting an end to this horror show.

But alas, his manners are disappointingly impeccable.

Mmm, yummy chicken!

Are you sure you don’t want some?

Come on, have a bite!

Right.

I haven’t eaten meat since I was 15, and I’m not about to start now.

Especially with something that’s probably a Porg.

~Happy Friday, friends! Have a great weekend!~

Is it any wonder those poor Porgs always look so sad

Is it any wonder those poor Porgs always look so sad?

Snips, Snails, and Puppy Dog Tails

He eats his veggies without a word of complaint.

He’s got a surprisingly great sense of humor, too.

And he actually seems to care about my feelings…

Instead of blatantly bulldozing over them like some people I know.

(Cough, cough, cough)

But he enjoys a good treat as much as my other two.

And I know for a fact all three of them will gleefully eat off the floor whenever the opportunity presents itself.

But that’s animals for you.

And kids, too.

The numerous parallels of kids and dogs are hard to deny.

As are the pros and cons of each, respectively.

In an already male-dominated household, adding a male dog to the mix naturally made the most sense.

Sure, the dog eagerly goes around sniffing crotches and behinds.

But otherwise, he’s got fairly impeccable manners.

In fact, I’m realizing that this new dog of ours is quite possibly the best behaved one in the house.

It’s true.

I mean, aside from yesterday’s Hot Dog Incident.

Did you know if you turn your back on a package of hot dogs while preparing dinner, the dog is gonna move in quickly and claim it for his own?

Yeah, well.

Live and learn, right?

But it isn’t really so different.

Kids and dogs both have a tendency to cram questionable objects in their mouths.

The kids would eat pennies when they were babies…

This dog eats chunks of his Nerf frisbee.

But he gives me hugs, any time, any place, without fear of embarrassment.

He’s loyal and unconditionally loving.

Let’s take a look at some of the virtues and vices of kids and man’s best friend, shall we?

Pro of dog:

Very few wants and needs.

Con of kids:

Need lots. Want everything.

Con of both:

Demand loads of attention.

Pro of dog:

Doesn’t talk, and more importantly, doesn’t back-talk.

Con of kids:

Argue and back-talk incessantly.

Pro of dog:

Eats the same thing day in and day out without complaint.

Con of kids:

Complain if you have the nerve to feed them the same thing twice in one week. (Unless it’s pizza or mac and cheese.)

Pro of kids:

Food seldom goes to waste. (Because they already ate everything. In the entire house. In one sitting.)

Con of dog:

Eats tennis balls. And his frisbee. And our dinner.

Con of dog:

Eats flies right out of the air whenever he’s outside.

Pro of kids:

Well… I’ve never noticed my kids doing any such thing…

Pro of dog:

Doesn’t demand newest iPhone.

Con of kids:

Demand newest iPhone and Beats headphones and newest laptop.

Con of dog:

May not demand these gadgets, but might chew up yours, though.

Con of kids:

Addicted to all things electronic.

Con of dog:

He’s addicted, and I mean addicted to Chuck It balls. (They must be laced with crack.)

Con of dog:

If dad is choking, it must be a good time to lick him in the face until he chokes harder.

Con of kids:

If dad is choking, get agitated by the rude distraction and crank up the volume on the tv.

Pro of dog:

Wakes up refreshed and excited for a new day.

Con of kids:

Wake up like sleep-deprived, starving zombies.

Pro of dog:

Enjoys the feeling of being clean.

Con of kids:

Shower? Again? Why?!?

Con of kids:

Laughed at me when I almost fell out of my chair.

Con of dog:

Laughed at me when I almost fell out of my chair.

(Hmmmm…)

Pro of kids:

Eventually learn to use toilet.  Don’t have to use diapers or a pooper scoop for life.

Con of dog:

Will poop and pee, any time, any place, forever.

Con of kids:

They’ll fart nonstop and bodily functions become the dominate mealtime conversational topic.

Pro of dog:

Doesn’t require shoes or clothing.

Con of kids:

Not only is it considered unacceptable to show up to school naked, it’s also not cool to show up in outgrown clothes that are soooo three months ago.

Pro of dog:

Loves being active. Always wants to go for walks and play.

Con of kids:

Go outside? To do what? Is the house on fire?!?

Pro of dog:

Gives hugs and kisses without expecting anything but love in return.

Con of kids:

If they’re being unusually affectionate, watch your back. And your wallet.

Pro of kids:

If you’re lucky, they’ll help take care of you when you are old and decrepit.

Con of dog:

If you die and nobody else is around, he might consider eating you.

Wow.

Aside from that last argument, it almost seems like it’s completely one-sided.

That it should be no contest.

That unconditional love = pets.

And unconditional needs = kids.

But that’s hardly the case at all.

They’re both rewarding and heartwarming, in their different ways.

Sure, a dog won’t laugh if you leave the house with your shirt on backwards or your pants inside out.

But kids?

Oh, they’ll laugh, alright.

They’ll laugh about it now, and they’ll laugh about it every day for the next six months…

Until you do something even more foolish to take their minds off of your previous transgression.

And then you can all laugh about it together.

~Happy Saturday, everyone! Hope you all get to spend an enjoyable weekend with your kids, dogs, cats, pet snakes, or whatever brings you joy and happiness!~

As long as I don't tear this new toy to shreds in the next few seconds, I just might become the new favorite child! 

As long as I don’t tear this new toy to shreds in the next few seconds, I just might become the new favorite child!

Rowdy, Rawring Stegosauruses

Rawr!

Fear me!

I’m a Stegosaurus!

Um, yeah.

Okay.

My cute, cuddly Stegosaurus Boy stands in the backyard, wielding a neon orange baseball bat.

Keeping himself occupied, he pitches himself a Nerf football while waiting for me to hunt down an actual baseball.

I like squirrels and Stegosauruses!

I wonder if he’s forgotten that he also likes cheese with his squirrels?

Eat my cheese! It’s spoiled!

First of all, eww.

And secondly… what?!?

I’m a Stegosaurus!

Fear me, foul creature!

I pitch him a ball.

He lightly grazes it with a foul.

Come on, you sweaty savage!

He’s clearly talking about himself.

It may be 90+ degrees out, but I don’t sweat.

I sparkle.

Cheeseburger! Cheeseburglar!

Did I miss something?

Is Cheeseburglar McDonald’s new counterpart to Hamburglar?

I want to be hit by the ball. I want to be harmed!

Sorry, but going to the hospital isn’t on today’s agenda. So pay attention and use the freaking bat!

Yay! That’s harassment!

We switch up, and crazy Stegosaurus Boy refuses to wear his baseball glove.

Swing, batter batter, swing!

He pitches to me.

Crack!

The ball soars over the neighbor’s fence.

I didn’t know girls could hit like that!

Oh, but I’m not just any girl.

I’m apparently the mother of a crazed Stegosaurus.

I’m freakishly powerful.

His next pitch is hurled in the general direction of a plastic bucket.

The bucket misses.

Bucket, you suck!

Sniff my butt!

By this point, I can’t be sure whether he’s trash-talking the bucket, the innocent ladybug sitting atop the bucket, or me.

Rawr, rawr, rawr!

I think that’s our cue to go back inside.

So Stegosaurus Boy goes inside to continue a riveting game of The Sims.

Come on, you freaking deranged lunatic! Get up and go find a job!

Unemployed and stressed out, one of his poor Sims putters around a humble little house with a dozen wild cats.

The possessed cats were peeing everywhere in this house lined with toilets, treadmills,  and foosball tables.

Puddles of cat pee spread across an alarming portion of the floor.

I gave you toilets! Toilets! Use the toilets!

Meanwhile, my other son keeps himself occupied in a similar fashion.

Playing Disney Infinity, he’s clearly the master of chaos.

At the bottom of an ocean lies Fear from Inside Out, a horse, spinning teacups, monster trucks, flying beds, bulldozers, an elephant, a Muppet bus…

And a wrecking ball.

Such torturous carnage.

So much for being a G-rated game…

What is it with boys?

They both wake up and start shooting and destroying everything in sight on games like Deer Hunter and Roblox the moment they awake.

Which, ironically, seems to be earlier than they ever got up for school.

Is this what summer vacation is all about?

And I’m pretty sure the only reason they haven’t been eating cookies for breakfast is solely due to the fact that we’ve run out.

Because they’ve eaten them all already.

Ah, the glorious start of summer.

~Happy Friday, friends! Have a fantastic weekend!~

Rawr, rawr, rawr! We're all a little crazy around here.

Rawr, rawr, rawr! We’re all a little crazy around here.

Apocalyptic Annoyance

Knock it off!

Make me!

You wanna go?!?

Sigh.

Some people get up and start the day with yoga and meditation.

But not us.

Oh, no.

We get up and start brawling.

It makes life so much more exciting.

Hey, no fair! He’s got more cereal than me!

Nuh uh! Why do you have more cereal than me?

Whack!

What was that for?

I wanted that book!

Well, I had it first!

Shut up!

No, you shut up!

I’m telling!

Not if I tell first!

Mom!!!!!

Mealtime has always been painful in this household.

One child eats only as a means of survival…

And even then, only by force.

Meanwhile, the other one “helps” clear his brother’s plate.

In the most annoying manner possible, of course.

Well…

Life is all about balance, I suppose.

Stop looking at me!

I’m not looking at you!

Knock it off, or I’ll lick you!

Mooooommmmm!!!!!

One boy reaches over and snatches a single piece of dry cereal out of his brother’s dish.

I need more food! He ate most of mine!

And so the flailing begins.

Between foot stomps and arm twists…

And pinches, punches, and pokes…

It’s little wonder I’m such a fan of finger foods.

No way am I encouraging the use of utensils if not absolutely necessary.

Fencing with forks?

Slapping with spoons?

Noogying with knives?

No, thank you.

Knock, knock!

Who’s there?

Boo.

Boo hoo?

Why are you crying?

Shut up!

No, you shut up!

Alrighty then.

I like trains!

You’re rude!

I like turtles!

And rotten!

Cheese! Cheese! Cheese!

And you’re annoying!

I swear, sometimes I can’t help but marvel at how I’m the most normal person in the room.

Yeah? Well, you’re mean!

No, you’re mean!

I like cheese with my squirrels,

I like squirrels with my cheese!

OMG! Why are you being so annoying?

Smell my feet! SMELL them!

You wanna go?!?

And so ended breakfast…

~Happy Friday, everyone! Hope you’ve had a great week! Enjoy your weekend, and try to stay out of trouble. Well, maybe a little mischief won’t hurt…~

I'm fairly certain my child invented this impressively annoying catchphrase...

I’m fairly certain my child invented this impressively annoying catchphrase…