I have a legal pad in front of me all day.
I write phone messages. Write down what happens on any given day. I pretend I am writing the great American expose on my Monster-in-Law. I am going to blow the lid off narcissistic personality disorder. Just you wait, Monster-in-Law!
Each day I write the "Wake Up Report."
Most mornings it is pretty grim. If you read this blog regularly, you know that we get up early around here.
It makes for short tempers, lots of tears and even more fatigue.
Here is history of just the last week or so:
H: 3:58, 5:36
C: 3:30, 4:06
Luckily, Mr. Smith had a plan. His plan involved keeping the little ingrates up really late to push their wakeup time to a more reasonable hour. He felt that after 30 days or so,
things should be on a happier road.
Problem with the plan?
Yeah, who gets to stay up with these little buttheads until 9 or 10? After getting up at 4-something? Really?
Needless to say, there was more crying.
This time it was me. I fell apart at 8 and went to bed. I had had enough. Lucky Mr. Smith stayed up and fought the good fight, bless his little heart.
Finally, I relented and agreed to the plan. I just want everyone to sleep for Pete's sake, how we get it is of no consequence to me. I just need everyone to not be a five alarm PMSing bitch. Show me a way to get that, I will sign on, believe me.
So we stayed up.
They drew and made confetti.
sat on the table and made more confetti.
"I see slobber dripping from that thing's teeth! It is sewer water!"
Oh yeah, and then made a little more confetti.
And while she was at it, decided to make more confetti.
And then we made Valentines, you know, because Valentine's Day is right around the corner and we need to get a jump on our heart manufacturing.
And then H starts cutting up card stock (we found a HUGE box of it when my Monster-in-Law was removed from the Crapwood house, so I kept it for the children) to make superhero collar/armor/boomerangs.
He started out claiming to be HuptaMan. I have no idea who or what that is. I just report what I hear.
Baby C pretends to be tied up or handcuffed.
HuptaMan rescues the damsel in distress.
She thanks him profusely.
"I am a weapon genius. I have invented weapons in my whole wide life."
He promotes her to superhero and makes her a cardstock cape.
She is now The Pink Bomber or the Rainbow Bomber, depending on his mood.
The villain is Vegetable Man.
"I sliced his melon head open."
"There's the signal!"
They spring into action.
"This is Rainbow Girl. Only when it rains, she gets a rainbow. The rainbow makes her have laser eyes."
She strikes her best superhero pose.
Notice the menacing hands-on-hips-defiantly pose Rainbow Bomber/Girl is holding here.
And then, Rainbow Bomber/Girl sucks her fingers. Even a superhero needs comfort.
And, because I know you are all just dying to know how The Great American Sleep Out ended up, the last two day's worth of Wake Up Reports:
In related news, I put an end to the experiment. It caused far too much trouble around here for these little nightmares to be up until 9 pm.