Saturday, June 8, 2013

The War at Home

Scene: A typical weekday morning in my house. 0645 hours:

Me: [after the initial good morning pleasantries have been ignored] Get up, get up getup GETUPGETUPGETUP

11: LALALALALALALALA!! WEEEE!!! [running through house chasing Dog. Trips over nothing and does a swan dive onto the couch. Doesn't move, but somehow still manages to give the effect of chaos]

10: [has been in bathroom for forty minutes]

6: I DON'T WANT TO GET UP!

Me: 11, stop running through the house. Did you brush your teeth? 10! GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM! 6, you have to get up. We have to get out the door to school. 11, I said to stop-----AAACK! MY FOOT! DOG!


Scene: Saturday Morning, approximately 0600 hours

11: [silence]

10: [silence]

6: [silence]

Dog: [begs to go out to pee, chase a cat and, apparently, it's time to play because he brings me his ball]

Me: [bliss, sorta. I'm not playing ball with you, animal]

Approximately 0605 hours

11: [bang, crash, loud chewing]

Me: Son, what are you doing?

11: Eating candy. And playing with my closet door.

Me: WHY?

11: I'm bored.

Me: It's six o'clock in the morning. On a Saturday. Don't you want to sleep in?

11: No. 

Me: Well, can I sleep in?

11: Sure! [continues to bang around in his room, chew loudly and happily crash through a huge bin of Legos] HEY MOM? CAN I WATCH TV?

Me: [DAMMIT]

I will never understand how, on weekdays, kids cannot get up to save their lives, yet on the weekends they manage to be up before the sun.


Have a great weekend, peeps.

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