Bruise and Bucket have been SORELY testing Michael's and my patience these last few days.
(Like the dental floss incident? And today, as Michael took them Home Teaching with him, they were RUNNING from chair to chair. And Bucket, when told that NO, she COULDN'T play on this tablet ... well, she bent Michael's thumb back and was all, "I'm not going to stop until you let me play with it." Then, when THAT didn't pan out for her, she started kicking him in hopes that he'd give in. Which he does not.
My husband does NOT submit to the demands of terrorists. Even when they're our own little terrors.)
Bruise and Bucket had a lengthy time-out.
After that time-out, they did their homework.
Then we let them play on their own.
Bruise, at one point, emerged from their room and announced that he and Bucket were playing "Pirates" (of the Caribbean) and HE was the "guy with the testicles."
"Um ... WHAT?" I sputter, sure that I must have misheard him.
"What?" he asked.
"You said what? 'The guy with the WHAT?'"
"Testicles. On his face."
At this point, I realize what exactly he's talking about. ...
|Disney would want you to know that those are NOT how my son described them.|
This is a family show, y'all.
And Bruise now knows (and says) that they are TENTACLES.
Because, at first ... well, I was trying to figure out what kind of ship (ha ha. Pun alert!!) Disney and Lego would be running ... putting testicles on some poor character's face. On a kids' game, even!
It's for reasons like this that we consistently refrain from damaging our children.
(Though, in all candidness, I DID talk to the kiddos during their timeout. I told them how DISAPPOINTED we were and how DISRESPECTED they made us [and a family friend] feel. I also made the point that what they did -- being squirrelly and NOT listening or obeying -- was NOT a way to show love and respect for people ... how it was more of a Satan-led choice [as opposed to showing people how Heavenly Father and Jesus would have them be treated].
And I DID cry. Not JUST because I was lecturing them. I try not to be emotionally manipulative.
But, hey, that amount of disappointment and frustration mixed with the sublime cocktail of hormones? It was rather inevitable.
But, no, I haven't sold them to the zoo. Or the circus. Or the gypsies ... Though, honestly? At times it might be preeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeety darn tempting.
But I love them most times ... So I keep them.
[Okay, I love them always and forever, really ... but that doesn't mean that sometimes I wonder about straitjackets or something. :P])
Okay, Miss Bubbles is waking up from a milk-induced nap.
I like it when she smirks in her waking-up stage.
But now she's started squawking. Better change and feed her ... keep her happy.
Maybe she'll be an easy child. A tractable, sweet one ...
Or, hey, maybe she'll end up being the type that lets me know that if she had arrived first, that we would have reconsidered EVER having any more. (Oh, goodness. I really, really hope not. But I have to be aware of that possibility.