Saturday, January 12, 2013

Word of the day: dumbfound

Dumbfound: (v) to make speechless with amazement; astonish.


It can try the patience of even the most saintly parents. Of which, I might add, I certainly am not one.

My husband worked a shift at his second job tonight at our local liquor store (which is awesome mainly because now he gets a discount on all of our liquor, woo hoo!), and I was home alone with the kids at bedtime. They did the normal thing where they pretended I wasn't speaking when I asked them all to brush their teeth, so teeth brushing took approximately thirty-five minutes which was mostly my fault because I was stuck in a Twitter wormhole on my phone and kept forgetting that they were supposed to be brushing their teeth and not testing out their new karate moves on each other. Moves that entailed wrapping their hands in black lace ribbon from my sewing kit and punching through paper towels. Yes. That.

After teeth brushing time, I let my older sons go in their room and play on their Nook and iPod Touch that they got for Christmas while I put the two younger kids in the bed. Then I spent, oh, I don't know, 25 minutes or so tucking the little ones in their designated bunk bed only to have them pop back up Whack-A-Mole style because they -needed to pee -needed a drink of water -couldn't find their blanket -wanted to tell Rosie good night, -needed one more drink of water because they actually spilled the last cup in their bed and just didn't want to tell me because I would "yell at them". Etc., etc.

Trip number forty-seven back to the little ones' room was to assure my youngest son that his throat and lungs were not shrinking. He was very adamant about it. They are SHRINKING, Mama. Mostly just his throat, though. I climbed up on my daughter's bed so I could be tall enough to see him in the top bunk and took a deep breath and asked him why he thought mostly just his throat was shrinking. He told me, "Well, yesterday when I was eating my eraser at school, I could barely swallow it. I can ALWAYS swallow my eraser, but not yesterday. I just know my throat is shrinking." I kind of just stood there dumbly on my daughter's bed, trying to absorb what he had said. Something about eating erasers. I very calmly asked him why he ate his erasers, and before he could answer my little daughter popped out from under her bunny pillow and exclaimed, "They taste really good, Mama!" So apparently she eats her erasers too. Enthusiastically. I have done something very, very wrong somewhere along the line in my parenting journey.

I vaguely told them "no more erasers" and wandered out of their room and sat down to stare blankly at the TV. My kids eat their erasers, y'all. I just don't know what to do with that.

1 comment:

  1. just when you think you have no stories to break out in an amazing one! I love this and am gonna read it to my mom.