Sunday morning found the father figure and I playing beat the clock as we attempted to find ourselves with time to actually reach church on time. Somehow this led to a conversation that contained the phrase (uttered by me) "Your fat wife." The father figure responded in a sassiest voice possible while still possessing a y chromosome "If you mean P H A T girlfriend." Well played husband, well played. We will never be having that conversation again.
I'm sitting in the car with Mac, X-Man and Cinco while Baba and Baby are practicing soccer. Of course they are in different parts of town, my life doesn't get to be that simple. X-Man is determined to remove the Lightening McQueen from the base of Mac's umbrella. Mac is convinced the umbrella ought to be opened in the car. Cinco knows she's missing out.
Today's car trip went something like this.
"Do you know what's going on X-Man?"
Because that's not annoying or anything. Lest I became bored while driving X-Man kept things lively with the unmistakable sound of a rather full glass of water being dumped.
I find myself retaliating at times. Mostly just for kicks, because I'm a bad mother.
Irritated pause. The child is not amused.
"MOM. ME. MOM. ME"
At this point he crumpled to the floor, head in hands and began to wail. Until he realized that Cinco had vacated her swing and he was on a mission.
"Get out of the swing X-Man."
He was triumphant. He won. I was almost as amused as when Baby wails to the father figure "I'm hungry" and he responds "I'm Daddy." Now those are some fireworks.