My children are pigs. Opening a package? Eh, just throw the wrapper on the floor. Having a glass of chocolate milk? Leave it sitting on the kitchen counter, or on the dresser in your bedroom until that last inch turns chunky. Done with those clothes for the day? Just leave them on your floor. Unless it’s your socks, in which case they should be left on the living room floor. Having a caramel apple but get full? No problem. Just leave it on an end table. Using a marker, pen, pencil or crayon? Leave it uncapped and laying on the floor; the younger kids need something with which to write on themselves and the walls. Want to play with a toy, or better yet, a toy with multiple pieces? Of course your bedroom will never do, so drag all that crap into a hallway, then immediately get bored and wander off.

My mama would have lit my butt on fire for such things, and rightly so. My kids, however, seem to forget everything they hear between stern lectures and threats of physical retribution.

Damn the school system for releasing the monsters for almost three weeks! Sheesh.

(You know I love ’em … but I’d love ’em even more if they’d pick up after themselves.)

0 responses to “Oink”

    • I’ve told him before that it’s his own damn fault for making four of them.
      However, I’ll still trade all four for one od my in-laws. ๐Ÿ˜‰ (I get to choose which one.)

      • Just remember that your in-laws don’t live with you, so you only deal with them on holidays and such.
        If school doesn’t start back up pretty soon I’ll stick the kids in a box and have them delivered to you. All four of them. You childless couples with all your freedom … (grumble, grumble)

    • I firmly believe what Bill Cosby said … You’re not really a parent if you have only one child. Until you hear the “He’s touching me!” fight coming from the back seat of a car, it just doesn’t count.

  1. Ha! So, I’m not alone? I find myself watching over the kids like a guard dog in order to keep my house from looking like a tornado swept through it. I have one very specific rule: Eat whatever you want, but eat it in the kitchen. Well, at least it works half of the time. Toys? Well, that’s another story. ๐Ÿ™‚
    Oh! You forgot to mention shoes and jackets that are discarded at various points when they enter the house.
    Complaining? Me? Nah…whatever gave you that idea? LOL

    • Coats and shoes? Oh, don’t EVEN get me started. Jake is always losing his shoes; Amanda throws her coat just wherever and Sara usually has at least three coats or jackets on the floor or the extra chair in my office-room.

  2. My favorite part of Christmas vacation is my son tugging on my sleeve saying, “Daddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddy…”
    And me saying, “What son?”
    And him saying, “Ummmmmmmmmm, I forgot.”

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