Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Stupid Decision # 1,452,600

I think that count is right and accurate...

Last night, the Queen spent the night at a friend's house so I thought "Hey ... we've done it before. Let's have the Man and Monkey have their own sleepover."

Mistake. In the largest degree.

The Monkey went down in the Man's room just fine. We set her up on her own little bed area, and when the Man went to bed, she was still there in the same spot, but still awake. I thought "ok ... they will talk and goof around for a while but then.... out like lights."

Well, there was a light involved. But it had nothing to do with the kids' lights going out.

It had everything to do with the Man's light being turned on. All the time. Ace got up, took care of it, and didn't think to turn it off at the source, which is a pull knob on the ceiling fan. When I came home from getting some milk, he asked me to look down the hallway to see if the light was on again. It was, of course.

I go in and find the Monkey out of her "bed" throwing something away. This was at 10.

I turn the light off at the source.... because you know, we women have bright and only GOOD ideas, right?

I tell them, under no uncertain terms, that they needed to get to bed. Now. Stop fooling around. Go to sleep.

One hour later after watching .... ummmmm.... ok. We were watching Little House on the Prairie: Look Back to Yesterday. Did you know that Albert had a terminal illness? Did you know they don't SHOW him dying in the end? What a waste of an hour.

The Man comes out, holding his hand under his left eye.

The Monkey THREW something at me. And she peed in my trashcan.

Nice. The "thing" she "threw" at the Man: her sippy cup. While he was dead asleep. Clocked him a good one. He had a shiner this morning.

And never, under ANY circumstances, tell your "I take EVERYthing literally" child that he is going to have a black eye in the morning.

My eye is going to turn BLACK!?!?!?!?!

Peals of wailing emerge from his little body. I am sure it was extremely traumatizing to be sleeping and then have someone clock you the way the Monkey did.

Needless to say, the Monkey didn't make it to morning in the Man's room. She was promptly sent back to her room to stew about what it was she did.

I don't know what surprised me more: the sippy cup used as a deadly weapon, or the trashcan used as a toilet.

I guess she decided it was a cool place to pee, because I saw Ace rinsing her trashcan out today.

I have decided that four is NOT the best year. Who ever coined it the terrible threes was WAAAAAYYYYYY wrong. There's NOTHING good that I can say about this age right now.

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3 Comments:

Anonymous Robin said...

Oh I so know this routine..
alone, they are asleep in two seconds flat.
Together, it is an all night affair. And of course, it is Abby who is the instigator. Carly can only stand it for so long until she has to come down and complain, we go up, put Abby in her own bed and then there is a temper tantrum involved. I ALWAYS said 3/4 is terrible..way worse than 2.
Oh the ATTITUDE!
Poor little man..didn't have any idea what was coming...

8:11 AM  
Blogger Ann said...

Now I am awake...good giggle fit. And I so agree about the age. Come to think of it, around age 1 the second 2 divas became creative monsters...didn't get better until they went to kindergarten. The trash can is classic. She sounds like my Maggie's twin.

9:14 AM  
Blogger The "Mind" said...

So that would be those "Freakin' Fours"? LOL!

Trash can, trash bag...it's all the same.

Wanna throw that sippie cup at me now? LOL!

4:20 PM  

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The Lovely She, that is me!

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

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The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.
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The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.
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The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.

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