Thursday, June 7, 2012

"...and don't facebook that, Mom!"


Okay, son, I won't facebook it.  I'll just blog about it.





As if I didn't already know how to split hairs like that, you and your sister are always attempting to school me on the intracies of the English language, so you'll be proud to know I've paid attention.  For my child who doesn't like to read unless forced, "splitting hairs" is an expression describing the action of escaping blame because the accusation is technically inaccurate.  For instance, this exchange:

Me: You need to read a few pages in your book.
You: Why?
Me: Because your grade depends on it. Because you have 180 pages left to read by Friday.
You: Why do I have to do it now. It's only Wednesday.
Me: Because I said so.
You:  *stomp, stomp* *slam* Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
Me: It's only been 10 minutes. Why aren't you still reading?
You: I finished.
Me: Whaaaat?
You (in a smug voice): You said to "read a few pages," so I did.
Me: Um, how many did you read?
You: 2...hey, you said a few, and two is a few.

That, my child, was a classic example of splitting hairs.  Your sibling is the one who is always insisting that I not "facebook" the things you guys do, not you, but trust me, I can think of plenty of times he's pulling the splitting hairs deal.   It's really for him that I'm sneaking this post into my blog instead of on facebook, but I never miss an opportunity to educate both of you at one time.  Yes, that does count for bonus points on my Meanest Mom in the World certificate, thank you very much.

Bwahahahahahahaha... MMintheW strikes again ;-)

So, back to the picture to answer the question in hubby's mind when I emailed him the picture at work on the first day back from vacation.  "What's that picture about?? What were they doing?"  Well, they were experiencing a brief detente in the waterfight they started with each other when I kicked them outdoors to play.  Armed with the giant squirt guns, suited up in sandals and crazy swim goggles, they were chasing each other around the backyard.  From the shed-io-that's-almost-a-studio, I could hear the action:  water faucet squeaking on, hose overspray hitting the enemy "accidentally," feet racing across the patio, feet running up the slide on the outgrown swingset, "hey! that's not fair" and "gotcha!" echoing off the walls of the shed and big shed as they circled, and then a tentative tiptoe into the shedio...followed by my "oh, no, ya don't, takethatbackoutside."  You know, looking back at that particular moment, I am surprised she didn't take the opportunity to squirt me, instead of merely trying to hide from her brother...hmmmmmm.

Why, if this is really a blog post about splitting hairs, am I suddenly calling to mind the acts of the devilish 10 year old, not the devious 10 year old, you ask?  Good question.  Maybe because the devilish just-turned 10 year old is so darn funny?  Maybe because the devious I'll-be-eleven-next-week year old doesn't spit out crazy one liners as often?  Whatever.  It's going to be a loooooong summer, I can tell... so, I might as well tell all about it, right?

Exhibit A
Last official day of school, aka report card pickup half hour, is over and kids are home. I head across the backyard to the shedio for a bit after instructing them to ditch SpongeBob, or else.  I hear them come outside and play basketball.  I smile because they actually did as told, and I go back to painting. I paint. I tweak. I take a picture or two. I paint. I suddenly realize I've been hearing nothing. Hmmmph. I call the house phone with my cell phone, mostly because a ringing phone gets a ten year old girl's attention like no other sound (except the ding of a text from her friends):
Me: Why aren't you two outside?
Her: Who...is...this?
Me:  You know it's your mother. Get back outside.
Her:  Are you suuuuuuuure you called the right number?

Lawdhelpmegeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezus, it could be a long summer! If that didn't convince you, then how about this little gem:

Exhibit 2
I'm using the phone in the kitchen where it is relatively quiet. I hear some squabbling downstairs, but it's of the mild type with no bloodcurdling screams, so I ignore it. I focus attention on the phone again. I look up to find just-turned 10 year old planting herself two feet from my face and saying, "I did nothing, just in case you think I did it." This gem is followed by an abrupt about-face and escape outdoors.  The almost-eleven-next-week year old does NOT come running to snitch on his sister. I wait.  I wait some more. Nothing.  I finally realize the devilish one most likely decided to say that just for the fun of it, to see what reaction she'd achieve. 

I'm telling you, the child can be entertaining, as long as I can grit my teeth quietly so as not to drown out the noise coming from outside my ears:

Oh, nooooo! I dropped my cupcake in the bathtub!

Long summer. Just sayin'  :)





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