Lately the kids have been driving me crazy with something. Out of the blue they have decided that they are going to fight about where they sit in the car. Every time we try to go somewhere they rush to the car screaming about “calling” the front seat. Those who end up in the back intentionally maul the front row sitters as much as possible as they climb over the seat. We don’t go anywhere without plenty of yelling, hitting, kicking and crying. It’s almost as if they don’t think they give me enough reasons to bark at them in the first place.
So the other night we were leaving the park when the bulrush began. Wally and Nelly ran to the car to commence the now traditional scrum. When I unlocked the doors, Wally threw the door open hitting Nelly in the chin, causing her to stumble backwards and fall down in the ditch. For the whole neighborhood to hear I immediately started my rant as I scampered around the car to beat the tar out of Wally. “Why do we have to do this every d@mn time we get in the car? I’m so sick and tired of this. I’m telling you, if this happens again you’ll all be…..blah, blah, blah.” I looked back into the park to see the wife doubled over laughing. I thought she was just laughing at my loss of control but there was more to it than that.
A little boy, probably 6 or 7, was standing by her watching the whole thing with a look of complete shock on his face. The wife turned to him and said, “wow, that guy is really mean.” “I know,” he replied, “I don’t think he got enough sleep last night.”
No comments:
Post a Comment