I distinctly recall informing my older two children that if they should get a detention this year they would need to figure out how long it would take them to either ride a bike or walk the ten miles to school since the new policy is that all detentions are served on Tuesday mornings at 7:15 sharp. Which means they would need to leave the house at least by 6:45am to get to school on time. And I ain’t never-ever-ever gonna get up and out of the house that early so my child can go serve a detention for something STUPID they did.
I also remember threatening my oldest son within an inch of his life if he forgot his gym clothes one more time which would cause him to have a detention.
Well, guess what?
Somebody is going to have to figure out if he wants to peddle or walk tomorrow morning and he’s going to have to get his arse up out of bed pretty early to get there on time. Because if he’s even a fraction of a second late….he’ll get to do it all over again on Thursday. ALL BECAUSE HE COULDN’T BOTHER WITH WASHING HIS GYM SHIRT!! I can’t think of any better punishment for not dressing out properly in gym class than more exercise, so there you go.
Seriously, my children are killing me. Slowly, painfully, one idiotic thing at a time they are KILLING ME! I planned on living until I was well into my 90’s, but I’m barely skimming past my mid 50’s now. That’s how many years they have shaved off my once long-happy-stress-free life.
Good grief. I am turning into a grumpy old lady before my very eyes. If any of you happen to see my giant son Seth tomorrow and he looks a little bruised and bloody, it’s because I am going to chew him up one side and down the other when he get home. Can’t get himself organized enough to remember a stupid gym uniform! All I can hope for is that he will have five boys to raise himself and that his wife is a better woman than me.
Next in line is my youngest. He plays explosion. I don’t know what else to call it, because that’s what he does, he hops around, making explosion sounds with a toy in his hand and then hurls his body into the couch then hippity-hoppity across the floor while exploding with the toy in his hand and then hurls his body into the toy chest. Now, repeat that everyday for a good ten minutes and you have Levi playing explosion back and forth across the living room and library. He gets all hot and sweaty and then he’s done, until the next day. Sometimes, I have to tell him to go upstairs to play explosion or I have to tell him to stop because he’s being so LOUD!
So what, he’s playing, right?
Yes, he’s a little boy with a huge imagination and it’s wonderful to listen to him playing in his little world.
But he has left behind a war zone. He has ripped the edge of the rug off where he twirls and hops, broken a board in the back of the couch where he hurls his body during one of the explosions and broken the hinge off the toy chest where it has fielded it’s last attack from Levi’s shrapnel.
My house can not withstand Levi’s explosions much longer. I told him yesterday that he could not longer land in the furniture while he’s playing explosion. So, now he’s upstairs playing explosion and I’m just waiting for the ceiling to fall…any second now. I don’t think this house is going to have any walls left by the time I get these boys out of it.
But, I don’t need to worry about that because they are going to drive me to an early grave. They can just bury me under the heap of broken furniture in my living room and maybe use a gym shirt to mark the burial spot.
*After Seth got home…..
So, what is the first thing Seth says when he walks through the door, “Hey Mom! I was thinking it would be fun to ride my bike to school tomorrow. I already asked Dad and he thinks it’s a great idea!!”
I laughed and told him his skin should be thankful that he’s funny and quick to save himself.