After catching a family of ants attempting to squeeze an unidentifiable object underneath the door frame of my back door this morning, I decided that it was time to break down and mop the kitchen floor. This relatively simple task was made difficult, however, by three screaming children who were running laps around the room. After ignoring my repeated requests to turn off their engines, Camber, Kellen, and Cortlen found their race course suddenly diverted through the front door and out onto the front yard.
"If you're going to act like wild animals," I told them, "Then go play with the squirrels."
It took less than two minutes for my three to come to grips with the sad truth that the squirrels did not want to play with them.
They returned to the front door, only to be met by a locked screen.
"Let us in!" they wailed.
"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!" I replied. "In five minutes, I'll be done mopping and then you can come back inside."
My suggestions for filling this ridiculously long interval of time--riding bikes or playing on the swing set--were soundly rejected on the grounds that the named activities were "too boring" and "no fun." Evidently, what was not boring and lots of fun was hurling insults at me through the screen door.
"You are so mean!"
"If I get a zillion mosquito bites it is going to be all your fault!"
"Those wild animals are making very ugly noises," I said as I closed the door completely, "And I don't want to listen to it."
Having lost their initial audience, the wild animals moved to the middle of the cul-de-sac, where they attempted to acquire a larger one by increasing the volume of their howling.
"My mom is never ever going to let us inside ever again!" screamed Cortlen.
"We are going to have to sleep outside forever!" cried Kellen.
"And eat sticks!" added Camber.
After 9am, such outbursts go unacknowledged, but at 7:45am, I was worried that the beasts' tortured moans might prompt one of my neighbors to call to animal control.
"Get over here right now!" I hissed through an open window.
The three animals started slinking toward me. As they did, I noticed a strange shadow out of the corner of my eye. It was Marge, the older, slightly surly single woman who lives in the house across the street. She was watching the scene unfold through the drapes in her living room. Unfortunately, she closed the curtains so quickly that I couldn't tell if the object she was holding up to her ear and speaking into was a phone...or a pop tart.
"If you're going to act like wild animals," I told them, "Then go play with the squirrels."
It took less than two minutes for my three to come to grips with the sad truth that the squirrels did not want to play with them.
They returned to the front door, only to be met by a locked screen.
"Let us in!" they wailed.
"Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin!" I replied. "In five minutes, I'll be done mopping and then you can come back inside."
My suggestions for filling this ridiculously long interval of time--riding bikes or playing on the swing set--were soundly rejected on the grounds that the named activities were "too boring" and "no fun." Evidently, what was not boring and lots of fun was hurling insults at me through the screen door.
"You are so mean!"
"If I get a zillion mosquito bites it is going to be all your fault!"
"Those wild animals are making very ugly noises," I said as I closed the door completely, "And I don't want to listen to it."
Having lost their initial audience, the wild animals moved to the middle of the cul-de-sac, where they attempted to acquire a larger one by increasing the volume of their howling.
"My mom is never ever going to let us inside ever again!" screamed Cortlen.
"We are going to have to sleep outside forever!" cried Kellen.
"And eat sticks!" added Camber.
After 9am, such outbursts go unacknowledged, but at 7:45am, I was worried that the beasts' tortured moans might prompt one of my neighbors to call to animal control.
"Get over here right now!" I hissed through an open window.
The three animals started slinking toward me. As they did, I noticed a strange shadow out of the corner of my eye. It was Marge, the older, slightly surly single woman who lives in the house across the street. She was watching the scene unfold through the drapes in her living room. Unfortunately, she closed the curtains so quickly that I couldn't tell if the object she was holding up to her ear and speaking into was a phone...or a pop tart.
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14 comments
I just love it when the beasts around here roar loud enough to attract attention. We live out in the country so our neighbor is my MIL who hates to see the little my little critters "Sad"..... good luck with the neighbor....lurking behind the curtains! :)
I refuse to let my children see the light of day for this very reason. I can't have them entertaining all the neighbors for free!
On those days that I need a kid free zone to mop the floors, I use duct tape, and lots of it. ;) (kidding!)
I've so locked my kids out of the house so I could work on something uninterrupted. It always results in much weeping and wailing, but I least I can get something done. One time while we were living in an apartment with a fabulously large balcony the children were thrust out. I came out later to find the children from the apartment below trying to "rescue" my kids by trying to climb up the railing. Oops!
Ahhhh. I love it when Marge makes an appearance in your blog!
hahaha! Love it!
I banish mine to the dark and miserable basement. They entire closet full of toys, the profusion of tent-making blankets, and the shelf of puzzles down there go totally unnoticed. They would rather sit on the stairs, peering at me through the railing.
We came across you blog thru a family friend and have now added you to our favorite blogs to read. I have not laughed as hard as my husband and I did last night in a while. We couldn't stop reading your postings. I believe we spent over an hour. It was an awesome date for the two of us. You are an inspiration and a comfort to know that there are other moms like me out there. You are so creative and so very talented with your writing. Thank you! We hope all continues well wth your pregnancy. You are simply amazing.
I hope Marge doesn't have your blog on her google reader. =)
Are you kidding me? I totally hope she has you on google reader and I extra hope she comments someday. Maybe she did and that was the comment you deleted due to profanity. Ha Ha Ha!
hah! if you get a visit from child protective services soon, you'll know who tipped them off.:)
this exact same scene has been repeated in my house, which made the astronomical price of a fence absolutely worth it. And keyed padlocks. I'm sure some of my neighbors have social services on speed-dial.
I was reading an article by Thomas S. (Aug. 2008) and there was a story about a Mrs. Wilcox....I thought of Marge. Who knows, you could be the best of friends and never know it.
Thanks for the laughs!
I just book a flight to a sunny place the last weekend of September and eat chocolate cake in my sweats where no one knows me.
All right, d-d mom, make yourself known! No one with that awesome of a user name deserves to be anonymous! You're killing me!!!!
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