I've been in a funk the past few days. Trouble sleeping, so I'm extra grumpy in the mornings.
Dear Butcher and I are in the kitchen. I'm scraping layers of gunk off a cutting board which should have been cleaned over a day ago, and silently berating myself for being such a terrible person to have left not only this cutting board, but the entire kitchen as a disaster area. Dear Butcher is trying to strike up a conversation, but he's annoyed at the state of the kitchen, so he's having trouble finding a neutral topic. The eldest daughter is hiding in her room, and the younger two kids are tumbling around on our bed.
Since the bed is almost directly above our heads, we can hear the thumps every time one of them launches onto the ground or onto one of the chairs. (The launching is entirely planned; they're not falling off the bed.) Soon Dear Butcher is halfway inside the refrigerator, trying to track down the source of the sticky orange substance on the lower shelf. I've got my back turned to him at the sink.
Suddenly the two youngest children appear in the kitchen. Son has a translucent purple plastic object in his hand and asks, "Hey Mom! Mom! Hey, Mom! What's this for?"
At almost the same moment I hear the youngest child, although because she's so short, I cannot yet see her from my position at the sink, mutter, "I got it! If you turn this, it makes your hand wiggle."
The two comments click together and I start laughing uncontrollably. Son says, "Mom! Mom! What's funny? Hey Mom? Mom? HEY!"
"Go ask your father."
"Dad! Dad! Hey, Dad!" His little sister has now joined him by their father's hip. They alternate poking him and shaking his shirt to get his attention. Dear Butcher has discovered a leaking Chinese Food Container and will not be distracted from his course.
Relentless, I say, "Dad! Hey, Dad? They have a question for you."
"Oh come ON!" cries Dear Butcher as he unfolds himself from the depths of the refrigerator. "Can't you just...?" And then he takes in the sight of his darling youngest children lined up before him. One naked, the other wearing only underpants, each holding up a cylindrical plastic object of fascination. The Kindergartner's entire arm is shaking due to her tight grip on the vibrating discovery. I'm laughing so hard that I'm silently crying. "Aii!" screams Dear Butcher. "Give me those!" A sprint up the staircase begins.
"But Dad! Hey Dad! Dad! What are they for?" cries out the son as he trots after his father. Dear Butcher kept them out of the room, and we were treated to the sounds of much opening and closing of dresser drawers before a giggling Dear Butcher returned to the kitchen.
We told the kids to Go Watch A Movie while we almost fell over laughing.
But the kitchen's still a disaster.
12 comments:
LMFAO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hhahahahaha...that's almost as bad as being caught in the acts by the kids!!!!!
Yeah, it's a shame produce doesn't vibrate. Then stuff like this would never happen.
Okay, I haven't read the post but you WON OVER AT MEAGAN!!!! You now have P&P and a parrot!! It's a good thing I like you ;)
CindyS
Okay, now I've read the post and can't stop laughing. Aren't you supposed to lock those puppies up!!
Ahhh, the therapy bills ;)
CindyS
Apparently tucking them under the bed wasn't the best idea?
Listen and learn, folks. Listen and learn.
ROTFL - What does one say? Just the other day I was asking where you purchase them and well - I've led an extremely sheltered life (one of the reasons why me writing a red hot sex scene cracks me up). But isn't it great how something like that can turn an entire day? I love it!!!
One says, and both say, exactly nothing.
"Gimme that!" seemed to be the extent of our explanation.
(And in terms of buying, we're not too far away form Good Vibrations in Berkeley, which is staffed by very serious and knowledgable Womyn's Studies majors, most of whom sport black eye makeup and many piercings. They're listed in the phone book under "Industrial Vibrators". Um. Yeah.)
OMG, I just found this, laughed so hard I cried. Thank you.
Ya know what? 20 years from now, your kids won't recall how clean your ktichen was, but they'll always remember finding your vibrators.
Hmm, somehow that's not as reassuring as it was meant to be.
Well, since the kitchen is almost NEVER clean, I'm not sure that I'm providing much competition on that front to drown out the memory of the day they found the purlpe things under the bed.
ROFL!!!!!!!!!!
Too funny!
I love that story.
I gave my husband a sex toy and he tossed it rather than allow the kids see that we had one of those things and (god forbid) tell the neighbors.
"and yah? I write porn, you dope."
I swear the guy is turning into a republican.
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