Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Since we all got home from soccer, I've yelled at X-Man fourteen times in the last three minutes. He discovered the drawer in my desk. So far he's tossed the box of push pins in the air, not really in the mood for 52 something pick up, he sprayed me with whiteboard cleaner, attempted to feed stamps to Cinco and sharpied his nose. Cinco is hovering at his ankles, yanking on his pants desperately wanting to join the fun.

Being more perceptive than her brother, she also scooted away quickly to the doorstop, where she began to play us the song of her people.

Today's been a scattered day of contractors and high school soccer games. Which is kind of odd, since I don't have any high schoolers. But Baby's soccer team got to run the lines of their soccer coach's high school team. They got to chase down errant balls. But mostly they got to do cartwheels, spin around in circles and then fight over the random ball that came their way.

And I really should be moving furniture with the father figure in anticipation of the floor refinishers that are coming tomorrow. I dread learning what all's involved. All I heard was the ominous "Well, you should be able to sleep here Wednesday night."

And it's time for me to go. The father figure is helping Cinco go to sleep, which means she's still awake and he's passed out. The other kids are in bed. I persevered through Ferdinand the Bull despite X-Man's adamant insistence that Ferdidand was a moo. And Mac kept trying to enlighten him on the reality of bulls and not being moos. As they were supposedly dreaming away, I began to blog. Only to be disturbed by a crash, and suspicious thumps. X-Man's eyes are large to begin with, but he mostly certainly had a completely stunned look on his face as I caught him rounding the corner. Sure enough, not satisfied with not one but two dinners tonight, X-Man snuck down and polished off the father figures dinner. In his rush to return, undetected, to bed, he climb off the table and knocked the plate off. Of course he would then step in the dinner remnants and tracked them back to the stairs.

Yet somehow I'm the bad guy who brushed his teeth for the second time. We're not waiting for Festivus to engage in feats of strength here.

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