Last night I was chipping toothpaste off the counter in the kids' bathroom (do they make a chemical for cleaning that? Toothpaste-dissolve -o'matic or something? I should invent it). The kids were running amok in the hallway getting pajamas on.
I poked my head out the bathroom door and said "SERIOUSLY!! We are having a tutorial on toothpaste squeezing tonight!" Then I was back to chipping. I thought about going downstairs to get a butter knife but the effort seemed too high, so I continued using one of Ashley's broken plastic headbands to chip chip chip away.
Then I heard the kids saying "Speaker 1, come in!" "What, Speaker 2?" "Speaker 3 is here!"
I looked out the door again. They were using calculators from the Target dollar aisle as walkie-talkies. Aidan, who was Speaker 1, began giving instructions to Ashley, who was Speaker 3.
Aidan: Speaker 3, I need you to call all the bad guys!
Aidan: Call all the bad guys, Speaker 3!
Ashley: Call them what?
Aidan: Call all the bad guys so they be dead ALL WEEKEND.
Me: I think he's saying kill all the bad guys, Speaker 2.
Owen: Hey, I Number 2!
Me: Heh. Number 2.
Then I tried to talk them into arresting the bad guys instead of killing them, because seriously, what is it with all this violence. Boys. I swear they're born with built in finger guns and sound effects.
Then I was back to chipping. Ashley came in and asked me for a comb. "The boys want me to do their hair!" she said. "In the drawer," I said.
Two seconds later Owen ran in. "MOMMY! I NO WANT ASH-EE DO MY HAIR!!!!"
"Ashley, don't do the boys' hair."
"BUT MOMM-EE, I WANT ASH-EE DO MY HAIR!!!" hollered Aidan.
"Ashley, don't do Owen's hair."
Owen grumbles in. "I want you to do my hair, Mommy."
I said "Okay, dude, but trust me, Ashley's really good at hair."
Owen grumbled out. "Okay, Ash-ee, you can do my hair."
Chip chip chip.
"But Owen, I'm done doing hair. Now I'm playing with Hello Kitty," says Ashley.
"MOMMY, ASH-EE WON'T DO MY HAIR!!"
"Ashley, for God's sake do Owen's hair!" I holler back.
"Mommy, I don't think these pa-jam-jams fit me!" giggles Aidan as he shows me his exposed belly.
"Just don't raise your arms up," I reply.
"Mommy, I need to go poop," says Owen.
"Thanks, lovely to know."
"Mommy, look at my hair!" says Aidan. He's now pulled his pajama shirt up to his hairline so he looks like a four year old nun wearing a Cars 2 habit.
Ashley starts laughing.
Aidan starts spinning.
Owen starts pooping.
I stop chipping.
"EVERYONE, TO BED!"
"But Mommy, I want to play on your iPad!"
"But Mommy, I want to watch iCarly!"
"But Mommy, I POOPING!"
But my tank was empty. So they went in their rooms.
And I went downstairs, exhausted.
Then I watched a Walking Dead marathon. You know, I really sympathized with those zombies. I really did.