Oh, they’re hung by the chimney with care, but that’s not the kind I was hoping for…
See…my kids got switched out today. Happens, on occasion. Aliens must have replaced them with Pod People. Something like that.
It’s been one of those days where four of five children agree: It’s piss-off-the-mother-and-treat-her-like-gnat-shit day.
I’m tired. I’m over processed. It happens.
Add in rebellious, dramatic and snark-assed children and you’ve got a trifecta of ridiculousness that makes you want to run head-first into a wall.
So, as my twin 6 year old gingers were giving me the evil-stink-eye whilst dramatically folding and putting away their laundry, I’d actually prepared, mentally, how I would react if they were to hand me that sock of mine that I’d seen mixed in with their clothing.
Went a little something like this:
[enter arm-flailing, bat-shit crazy woman, stage left].
“Master has presented Dobby with clothes. Dobby is free!!!!!!!!!!!!”
And I was, in fact, prepared to (with Academy Award winning realism) run out of the house, into the van, and take off somewhere (anywhere) away from here.
I knew where my keys were, where my fuzzy-lined Crocs were (because bat-shit crazy women can get away with wearing Crocs…get over it) and where I’d put my wallet.
It didn’t happen.
They didn’t give me the sock and instead, put it in the pile with the eleventy-billion OTHER lone socks, any one of which could have been used for the same damn purpose…
Now that the younglings are bed, the teenager banished downstairs, the good cry has been had…
…I still seriously wish they’d given me that damn sock. I would’ve given ANYthing to see the look on their bewildered faces…
In time, younglings…in time….
These are the days of my made-for-tv-movie kind’o’life. 😉