Here is how my snow day morning went.
6:07 am: Phone (right beside my head) rings. It was the automated recording of the PR person from Our Town’s school district telling me that the schools are closed and that we can all sleep in. Thanks for that you stupid cow.
6:11 am: Heard Sweet Pea rattling around in his bunk bed, obviously awake. Oh crap.
6:13 am: Heard Sweet Pea in the bathroom. Intercepted him as he was going into Pickles’ room to wake him up. But he’s already awake! Which he was because of the automated stupid cow that called at 6:07 am. Sent Sweet Pea back to bed
right now before I blow a gasket!, and told Pickles to turn out the light and go back to sleep.
6:29 am: Pickles got into my bed, Sweet Pea went downstairs for food and to get patched. My blood pressure had almost normalized. Thank the Lord Pumpkin Pie was still asleep.
6:43 am: Pumpkin Pie woke up. Pickles took him down for cereal (Because he is awesome). From bed, I can overhear that Sweet Pea has put “Dynamite” by Taio Cruz on and is playing it over and over and over. This is taking its toll on Pickles’ nerves.
7:15 am: Husband got in the shower, I went downstairs to turn off Taio, scatter the shorties and assess the kitchen damage. My glasses were locked in the bathroom with Husband so I had to go down blind. Literally unable to see. The little boys went quietly into the basement. Sweet Pea was somewhere else
momentarily quiet, and I couldn’t actually see anything, so I sat with my face pressed up to the computer monitor to check my email and finish waking up.
7:30 am: Husband finished his shower and my sight was restored. I put away all the cereal stuff and had the following conversations while cleaning the kitchen:
Sweet Pea: I am going downstairs to play in our fort.
Me: It would be better if you waited a little while.
Because your medicine isn’t working yet and you are a lot whackadoodle.
Sweet Pea: What? Why? Pickles and Pumpkin Pie are down there whycan’tIgodowntheretheywillmessupourfortIwanttogodowntherewhycan’tIgodownthere WRAAAAAAHHHHHHH
Me: How about some scrambled eggs?
Sweet Pea: Okay. I am going downstairs to play in our fort.
Me: Not yet, please.
Sweet Pea: Why not!? Can I let the dog out? Can I sharpen my pocket knife? Will you sharpen my pocket knife? How do you sharpen a pocket knife? My pocket knife is too dull to whittle. Can I let the dog in? Can I go out in the garage and whittle? Can I go downstairs and whittle?
Me (calling to the other boys downstairs): Anyone want scrambled eggs?
Pumpkin Pie: Not me!
Me: Pumpkin Pie, are you sure? You love scrambled eggs.
Pumpkin Pie: I’m sure, I already ate.
Me: Alright. Eggs for Daddy, Sweet Pea and me only.
7:45 am: Cooked eggs and toast while chatting with Sweet Pea.
Sweet Pea: I know! I’ll play with this Fimo clay until breakfast is ready!
Me: Great idea!
Sweet Pea: Do you know where the Fimo clay tools are?
Me (through my gritted teeth): I am making. breakfast. right. now.
Suddenly, Pickles and Pumpkin Pie materialize and squeal like maniacs on crack.
Pumpkin Pie and Pickles (in unison): EEEEEEEEEEE!! I want to play with Fimo clay, too!!
Me: GO AWAY! HE IS PLAYING NICELY BY HIMSELF!!
They sulk back to their basement lair, dejected, but quiet. Don’t go away mad. Just go away.
8:12 am: Plated up eggs and toast (with Husband’s help) for Husband and Sweet Pea. Mine were still in the pan when Pumpkin Pie (obviously drifting upstairs on the delicious toasty aroma like something out of a Warner Brother’s cartoon) appeared in the kitchen.
Pumpkin Pie: I WANT SCRAMBLED EGGS!
Me: Seriously? Rude. What did I ask you when you were downstairs?
Pumpkin Pie: I WANT EGGS!!! WRAAAHHHHHHHH!!!
Me (again through gritted teeth, is it any wonder I have TMJ problems?): What. did. I. ask. you?
Pumpkin Pie: If I wanted any eggs.
Me: Right. And what did you say?
Pumpkin Pie: That I didn’t want any eggs.
Me: Right. So are there any eggs for you?
Pumpkin Pie: No. But I want some. Wraaaaahhhhhhhh!
Me: Maybe if you ask me nicely, I will make you some when I am done eating mine.
Pumpkin Pie: Okay.
8:17 am: I gave Pumpkin Pie some of my eggs. But NOT my toast. So there, rude.