And yes, if I even THINK there is a mouse in my house, I will be at the store within minutes to purchase no less than a full arsenal of goods with which to dispatch said mouse and eject it from my home. Only now I do it with pants on. Most of the time.
- The car that just drove by
- The car that MIGHT drive by
- A grasshopper that just farted in the backyard
- A blade of grass blowing in the wind
- His ass hair blowing in the wind
- The ticking of the clock
- The ticking of the bomb I taped to him
- His reflection in the refrigerator
- The kids getting off the bus (They LIVE here, you idiot!)
- The shadow of the tree reflected in the grass
- The gurgle of his watering dish
- The flush of the toilet
- The trash truck
- The sound of his own bark
- The sound of me saying “shut up!”
- The sound of my house plant growing
- · Ironman is Jordan’s FAVORITE hero. Ever.
- · Movies are supposed to be fun.
- · Jordan was recently diagnosed with an anxiety disorder.
- · Brothers stick together through anything.
Protesting is an age-old way of demonstrating our displeasure with certain situations, and apparently it is a built-in skill that even the youngest among us are able to master. I have the photographic evidence to prove it. You will soon see my youngest boys in the act of protesting, and I can sympathize with their plight. Truly I can.
Things I have protested:
- The stupid scale in the bathroom that is apparently broken and refuses to display a lower number even though it is digital and it is SUPPOSED to be highly accurate. Pffft. I am protesting it by refusing to get on it.
- Radio stations that play too many commercials, because as my older daughter would say, “That messes with my jam.” So I change the channel. Take that, you commercial-playing channels.
- Shopping venues that use incorrect grammar or spelling in their signing. And I’m not talking about the intentional kind. I’m talking about the I-don’t-know-the-difference-between-their-there-and-they’re kind. That kind. Won’t shop there. No way. Call it a sit out…or a shop out, if you will.
So when the boys were told the other day that they could not stay up past their bedtime to watch TV with us, they decided to have their own little protest–a hell-no-we-won’t-go of sorts. They did it on the sly, and they were VERY sneaky and VERY quiet. In all honesty, they were good little protesters. Until they fell asleep.
They snuck out of their bedroom and set up camp on the stairs, apparently watching TV from their little hideout just out of our field of vision. But alas, protesting is not for the sleepy or non-caffeinated. This is how we found them in the dark as we headed up the stairs for bed a little while later: