I can't make this shit up.
I just turned the corner and entered the laundry room to find Hurricane Girlchild perched dangerously on top of an overturned laundry basket, reaching for a juice box on a shelf that is easily 5 feet high.
"What are you doing?" I calmly ask.
"Nothing" is the response.
Hm. I wonder if the staff at Children's Hospital would buy that as an answer? Ma'am how did your daughter smash all of her teeth out and ruin her face? She was doing Nothing. really.
All I can think is Great. More ammunition for the authorities.
The other night while we tidied up after dinner we could hear beer cans clinking. Now, if you know us this isn't a strange sound in our home and wasn't the least bit disturbing to us except both adults in the house were together upstairs.
Spouse poked his head down the stairs and caught this. Hurricane Girlchild playing with a flat of empties.
|Judging by the nudity on the loveseat beside her it was going to be quite a shaker. |
Not to mention Dora and Boots already passed out on the floor.
What could she be possibly be doing with those we asked each other. Because we are a little demented we waited it out and this is what we saw.
|I was afraid to ask what the Banana was for.|
When questioned about the beer cans and stuffed animals Hurricane responded with much glee and dancing about "It's a party!" We of course started to worry about what she sees as adult role models drinking beer and having a "party". In our minds quickly analyzing how often we drink, and how much we are exposing the kids to.
Guilt quickly overwhelming me.
So I asked Hurricane how come her animals were drinking beer. "it's not beer mom" was her reply- "They're having juice." "and they need some cookies- can I have some cookies?"
Who am I to say no?
Besides I was so relieved to know we hadn't scarred the kid for life. "COOKIES FOR EVERYONE!"
Despite the nudity and unexplained presence of fruit it was a relatively quiet affair and the party was tidied up after last call and the cookies were gone.
Then Stuffed Dog said
"I DON'T CARE WHERE YOU GO BUT YOU CAN'T STAY HERE!" move toward the doors ladies and gentlemen...
I dodged a guilt ridden bullet, and was once again reminded that I'm not the worst mom ever and our kids have wicked imaginations.
Ladies. It's not an after hours club- hit the bricks. I'll call you a cab.