Posts Tagged ‘Humor’
Gee, I was just trying to help!
When the kids were on spring break they begged me to take them to the movies. They wanted to see Hop which opened on Friday. When Mr. Man came home he noticed that I had printed off show times. He said “Are you really going to take all three of them to the movies?” He took them to see Yogi Bear by himself and I guess it was a nightmare. I said “Well, I was thinking about it but they haven’t done much today beyond screaming and fighting.” He walked into the living room and addressed the couch potato gang with “You haven’t done anything to help you mother today. She did YOUR laundry and cleaned YOUR room. Do you really think you deserve to go the movies?” The Informant piped up and said “I took the dog outside”. Mr. Man was not impressed. He finished with “You aren’t going anywhere until you do some work around here. I suggest you turn off the T.V. and start cleaning.”
Shortly following the speech Captain Destruct-O came in my room and asked me if the clothes in the laundry basket on the floor were dirty. I told him that they were and he said he would take them downstairs for me. I said “okay”.
The next thing I know he stuck his head in the room and said “I did the laundry for you, mom.” I said “What???” and I took off for the basement. Sure enough he had started the laundry. I had forgotten that Mr. Man showed Captain D how to turn the machines on because he sometimes makes him do his own laundry (with supervision). Captain D has nasty dirty clothes sometimes and Mr. Man doesn’t want to touch them with a ten foot pole. Anyways, the washing machine and the drier were going. I was certain there wasn’t anything that needed to be dried in the washing machine and, so I had no clue what he was drying. I yelled for him. When he made his way to the basement I asked him where he got the clothes in the drier. He said he washed his sheets but the rest were on the floor near the drier. That only means that the dirty piles of clothes made their way across the room. Apparently his bright idea was to throw the dirty clothes in with the clean sheets, and that would freshen them up enough that I wouldn’t notice. If the child can find a shortcut, he’s going to take it.
The clothes in the washing machine were the ones that he carried downstairs for me. He shoved them all in the washer. He doesn’t understand separating lights and darks. Everything was soaked and there wasn’t any point in stopping the machine because the damage was probably already done. I thought……Great, I hope the unintentional tie-dye look is in this season. Maybe it will be okay. I don’t even want to think about how much soap he used. A scene from an old Brady Bunch episode flashed through my mind, and I pictured my basement flooded with bubbles.
With my head hung in defeat I looked at my 7 year old who had a “what” expression on his face. I know he was thinking…… Man, they tell me to clean. They tell me to help out. Then when I do, mom freaks. They seriously need to make up their minds.
If catalogs reflected real life
I use to get Pottery Barn® catalogs in the mail rather frequently. I would thumb through page after page of organized living space that appeared to smell of clean linens and apple pie. Sometimes they would send me the Pottery Barn Kids® catalogs. You know, the ones that have two calm children, sitting a child sized table, playing nicely together. They are in a room large enough to hold a three ring circus, but they are just sitting, surrounded by their organized toys in labeled containers. I once told someone that I really just wanted to order one of the calm, and obviously sedated, children but they weren’t labeled for sale. Yeah, I would be in la la land until The Informant would run into the room and say “Mom, come see what Captain Destruct-O did!” That’s when I would snap back to reality with the discovery that a towel rack won’t hold the weight of a four year old child. I stopped receiving those catalogs when we moved and I figured it was for the best. It only conveys a sense of a false reality.
Of course, I couldn’t afford anything out of those catalogs anyways, but Mr. Man decided to
start a woodworking hobby last year. So for Christmas, I asked him to make a small armoire for Britches’ dress-up clothes. It turned out really cute. He even purchased three really cute canvas baskets for her accessories. He made a door for it, but after telling her not to swing on the entertainment center door for the 500th time, he decided it was best to remove the temptation. We know she hasn’t an ounce of willpower when it comes to temptations. That’s what sparked this story in the first place.
Ah, temptation……..thy name is doughnut.
Imagine if you will that you are three years old. You’re mom just brought home three leftover pastries from work. We will call them “doughnuts” because you are three. You are starving. You are always starving. It’s as if they never feed you. Mommy tells you that you have to wait until after dinner to get a doughnut, and she puts them on top of the refrigerator. You try to reason with her but she still won’t give you a doughnut. There is only one thing to do. You must take matters into your own hands.
The plan (Britches’ view)
Dad made this great thing for my stuff this year. It has three containers that I have discovered can be turned upside down and used as stepstools to reach what I shouldn’t. That should do the job. All I have to do it just dump all this crap, that mom picked up, out on the floor.
Next I have to get them past mom. Everyone knows that mom is a pretty distracted lady. It’s not terribly hard to slip things past her. She’s folding clothes and trying to figure out if those are her pants or brother’s pants. Um, you’re short mom but he’s super skinny….it’s not rocket science. Oh well, her back is turned and she’s distracted. This is too easy! Just scoot the kitchen chair over, and stack the containers on top… voila! Oh crap, how am I going to get up there? I’ll grab the stool from the vanity that grandma bought me for Christmas. Man, I’m such a great problem solver.
Mom has finally realized she hasn’t heard from me in awhile. She yells “Britches, what are you doing?” This is where I screwed up. I replied “Eating a doughnut”. Curse my three year old honesty. When will I learn to lie? Mom yells “You better not be!” I answer “Yeah”. REALLY…I just had to confirm my crime! Here comes The Informant, “Mom, she really has one!” Dude, you are going to be so sorry for this someday. I’m going to bust you like there is no tomorrow when you’re a teenager. Crap, here comes mom! Do you know what she did? She took my doughnut before I even had a chance to bite into it. Man, I’m ticked. I’m going to do the only reasonable thing. I’m going to stomp around the kitchen and demand that she give it back. Sometimes it works….but only with mom. Dad is a lost cause.
So there you have it, this is reality. Nothing in this house is used as it was intended.
Like my father always said when I was little “Can’t have anything nice!”
Tonya • Digital Diva
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