Extreme Tattling

The twins went to play upstairs in their room. Five minutes later, Little Boy was tattling on his sister.

"Mommy! Little Girl is playing in Boo and GG's room!"

(They know they are not supposed to play in their older sisters' rooms.)

So I went up there and found her yelling at him, from the forbidden room, "I told you! Don't tell Mommy I went in here!!!!"

"I told Mommy," Little Boy said virtuously to his twin.

Then he turned to me. "Also she pooped in the potty and didn't wipe her bottom."

BAZINGA!

Interruption to Saturday's quiet

I was spending a pleasant Saturday afternoon with the kids.

Well, sort of.

Truthfully I was trying to keep the twins entertained in the living room and ignoring the noises coming from the big kids, who were all upstairs.

(image from http://brandontoddwright.blogspot.com)

After a while things got quiet upstairs, and the twins were settling down to watch a movie with me on the couch. That's when ET appeared with an announcement.

"Boo's underwear is in the neighbor's tree."

So the peace was shattered with a bunch of confused questions.

"What happened?"

"Which neighbor? Which tree?"

"Why are you telling me this?"

And most important: "WHY is your sister's underwear in a TREE?!"

Apparently Boo was angry that ET and GG weren't letting her in the room with them. So in retaliation, she began shoving various pairs of her underwear under the locked door.

And GG retaliated in turn by throwing all the underwear off the balcony and into the front yard. (And the neighbor's front yard, apparently.)

Obviously Boo didn't really think this one through....

So Boo had retreived all the underwear from the yards, but one pair was still stuck in the neighbor's tree and she was afraid to tell me about it.

I went outside and shook the tree until it came down, thinking, HOW do these things HAPPEN?

While Boo watched embarrassed from the house, vowing to remember next time to use someone ELSE'S underwear for her retaliatory schemes....

Spring Break

So, it’s spring break here in Hawaii.

That sentence sounds pretty good all by itself. Kind of makes you jealous, doesn’t it? Wish you were here?

Before you start thinking of a wild beach party, remember who you’re talking to.

No wet-T-shirt contests, people! I think that’s more Florida than Hawaii anyway…

By the way, that graphic above was the most G-rated picture I could come up with. I searched Google images for "Spring Break." I think I need to wash my eyeballs now...

But I digress.

Around here, Spring Break should be called The Official Torture Mommy Into Insanity With Incessant Whining And Fighting Week.

It’s Wednesday, and I’m pretty close to certifiable by now.

Good job, kids!

For some reason, I decided to exacerbate matters this week by initiating potty-training of the twins.

Yeah. THAT was a brain-wave.

So I’ve been increasing my stress level by forcing the twins to sit on the potty while I sit on the floor and manically read books and sing songs to keep them entertained and therefore seated.

It’s day THREE, and we have yet to produce anything inside the potty.

But I’m still singing!

In the meantime, the fight in the living room over the possession of the remote and/or the seat closest to the TV has escalated into a real smackdown.

Also, last night the kitchen sink clogged up and filled with (brown) standing water, AND Baby Girl threw up in the car today.

So far Spring Break is shaping up to be AWESOME.

Still jealous?

Wish you were here….

Sock Wars

Last Saturday we had a major sock fight.

I don’t mean that the kids were throwing socks at each other, or that that Lamb Chop and that pets.com puppet were brawling in my house.

I mean that the children were actually fighting over a sock.

The altercation started right before dinner, with GG shrieking from the living room.

I yelled, “What’s going on?” from the kitchen, and discovered that ET had forcibly removed GG’s left sock and was dangling it above her sister‘s head.

“That’s MY sock! She’s wearing MY sock!” ET accused, regrettably sounding a lot like one of Cinderella’s stepsisters.

GG asserted that it was her own sock, and not ET’s.

Both girls insisted that it was a sock they’d just gotten for Christmas.

Now, unfortunately, although I purchased the Christmas socks myself only two months ago, I did not remember which particular sock went to which child. Therefore, with two conflicting claims of sock ownership, I could see no way to resolve the question.

I said, “There’s no way I can tell whose sock it is. So I guess I will have to confiscate the sock and throw it away, if neither of you will concede and allow the other one to have to sock.”

They both scowled at me. Nobody conceded anything.

I continued, Solomon-like. “I would think that the TRUE OWNER of the sock would LOVE the sock enough to not want it to be thrown away.”

ET rolled her eyes. “Bible wisdom, Mommy? REALLY?!”

I shrugged. “Well, there’s no way I can tell who’s telling the truth here. It was worth a shot.”

GG put in, “Besides, according to the Bible story, you should cut the sock in half, not throw it away.”

“I want the toe end!” ET said quickly.

Obviously NO ONE is the true owner of this sock.

We went around the subject a few more times, but the only other idea we could come up with was that all of GG’s Christmas socks had matches, whereas ET’s did not.

 (There’s some new sock style where your socks don’t match intentionally, so I was trying to be Cutting Edge Mom and bought her a set of twelve unmatched socks. Yeah, I know: Like I don’t already have a pile of those behind the dryer!)

ET said smugly, “If SHE can come up with a match, then it’s HER sock. If not, it has to be MINE!”

I pointed out the problem with this, namely, the propensity of sock matches getting lost in this house. “Even if she can’t find as match, that won’t prove it’s not hers,” I told ET. I was still planning on tossing the offending sock after dinner.

Or at least dumping it behind the dryer.

Then, surprisingly, GG excused herself from the table, searched the laundry room, and came up with the sock’s match!

ET had to grudgingly concede this round to her sister.

I don’t know if Solomon himself could have done better with this crowd.

Missing the Bus

Yesterday GG missed the morning school bus.

Every day I work hard to hustle her and Boo out the door in time to catch the bus, which as many of you know is like trying to herd a bunch of cats. We get almost through the doorway and one of them has forgotten something, or someone didn’t brush her hair, or there’s The Drama of The Shoes.

I mean seriously. Why can’t they ever find TWO shoes? That match each other, I mean. I’m thinking, you had two feet yesterday, and they were covered with two shoes yesterday! Why is there now suddenly only ONE shoe today? WHERE IS THE OTHER SHOE?

But yesterday we’d actually gotten through all of that, and both girls were sitting at the bus stop on the corner. I always sit on the porch where I can see them at the bus stop. Everyone was in place, when GG decided to begin another fun game they play sometimes: I Forgot Something.

I guess all kids play I Forgot Something, but mine seemed to have turned it into an Olympic event.

Here are the opening ceremonies of I Forgot Something:

First of all, the kid comes running back home.

Me: What’s the matter?
Kid: I forgot something.
Me: What did you forget?
Kid: Something….

This is followed by the front door slamming as the kid goes into the house for the mysterious object.

A few minutes later, the kid will re-emerge, looking exactly the same as she did before and carrying nothing. And this happens a couple of times a week. I have NO IDEA what they keep forgetting!

Anyways, usually the child doing this will hurry, and leave her backpack at the bus stop, assuming her sister will hold the bus for her if it comes. This is rather a big assumption, of course.

Well, yesterday, GG came back to play I Forgot Something , but she’d apparently decided on the slow-mo version.

She ambled back home, and I broke from the script and advised her to hurry up because it was almost time for the bus. She said she had plenty of time, that the middle school bus (which usually comes at least twenty minutes before the elementary school bus) hadn’t even come yet and ET was still sitting out there with the other middle schoolers.

So while she was in the house, a bus came and went. From where I was sitting I couldn’t see which bus, so I waited. When GG came back out, she walked to the bus stop, and then a few minutes later she walked back.

I went out to the yard to meet her. She said, looking at the ground, “Boo and the other kids are gone.”

I said, “You mean you missed the bus, after I told you to hurry, and you said you had plenty of time?”

(Sometimes I just can’t resist an I-told-you-so!)

 (Picture from http://icanhascheezburger.com/)

She paused a moment, and sighed deeply. “I guess you were right,” she said, mostly addressing the lawn.

So then it was MY turn to sigh deeply. Because I had to go get the twins up and dressed and drive to the elementary school!

It wasn’t really worth the I-told-you so.

By the way, later when I asked Boo why she didn’t ask the bus to wait for her sister, and she said she hadn’t noticed GG wasn’t there, because she was busy talking to her friend. GG thought that this was a lie, but I believe it; usually the girls completely ignore each other outside of the house.

Also, the middle school bus had just been late due to some sort of mechanical problem, which was of course unrealted to timeliness of the elementary schol bus.

Oh, and GG had come back to change her jeans into a different pair of jeans, because the first pair “looked weird.”

I guess the moral of the story is, Never assume your sister will hold the bus for you.

Or it could be, Listen to your mother, for goodness’ sakes, and HURRY!

Harmony and Love in our Home?

It’s really nice when the kids get along and love each other.

Yeah. I’ll let you know when THAT happens. Usually it’s exactly the opposite around here.

Here’s some actual (NOT made up! I promise!) conversations from our house:



GG singing in her room: “London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London bridge is falling down. I hate ET.”
Boo: “Me too.”

A little while later:
ET: “GG, everyone in this family hates you. Except Mommy. And Daddy. And Boo. And the babies.”

Then on another day:
ET: “GG, one day you’re going to need a kidney. And I’m NOT going to give it to you.”
GG: “That’s okay, There’s plenty of other people who will give me one.”

Wow, huh?

Doesn’t that just make you want to break out singing “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?”
 
But I guess I can always hold out hope that one day they'll all be friends.
 
Maybe when they move out. Or one of them needs a kidney....

Too Many Kids, Obviously...

So yesterday I lost Boo for a while.

Don't worry, I got her back.

It was just that I was ready to take GG to her guitar lesson, and Boo was inside a friend's house instead of at the playground like I thought, so she did not come when I called her.

I was also distracted by the fact that my kitchen sink had been stopped up all day (standing water mixed with food scraps--ewwww), and the repairman arrived just as I was getting ready to leave, and ET's friend had also just arrived for a visit as well.

So I delegated. I sent GG to look for Boo. She came back with a shrug and a casual, "Couldn't find her."

By this time my husband had arrived home, so he could babysit the repairman (and the twins!). Which was great. Except that I couldn't leave until Boo was accounted for.

So ET rolled her eyes and said she and her friend would go find Boo.

In the meantime I quizzed GG on exactly where she had looked for Boo. It turned out she had not canvassed the homes of all four friends in the area; she had only checked one house. So I sent her out to look again, and resumed hollering Boo's name.

At that point Boo popped her head out of her friend's upstairs window, and I called GG back.

So we were ready to go, except for the fact that ET was still out looking for Boo. I texted her, "Got Boo," (the best way to communicate with ET--she NEVER ignores a text) and waited in the yard for her to get back.

While I was standing there my neighbor walked up. I told her I was waiting for a child I had sent out to look for another child, and that we were going to take a third child to her lesson.

After she deciphered THAT statement, she joked, "Well, you know what the problem is. You just have too many kids! There's no one to blame but yourself for that one!"

I laughed, but really. Is five SO many? We're not the Duggars here, you know.

Who are, by the way, according to the latest issue of "People" magazine (currently sitting in my bathroom), ready for MORE kids!

So ET finally showed up, all in a snit because she'd climbed a fence while looking for Boo and gotten dirt on her skinny jeans.

Well, who asked you to CLIMB A FENCE?! I mean, really, in what universe is that necessary?

Then she spent the next ten minutes complaining about having to look for Boo, and suggesting various punishments Boo should receive for inconveniencing her so severely.

Thanks SO MUCH for the parenting advice, 13-year-old child!

I told her that when she had her own kids she could punish them all she wanted, but to please STOP telling me how to raise mine.

She retorted, "Don't WORRY Mom, I'm not going to HAVE any kids! Thanks to YOU! You just have TOO MANY!"

So I've been told....

How to Have a Pleasant Dining Experience

So we decide to go out to dinner.

I had a meeting to go to and didn’t get back until after five…I don’t really feel like starting dinner so late…I don’t have anything thawed….

All right, all right, enough excuses! I’m LAZY and I want to go OUT! Is that so terrible?

So to justify the whole thing I want to pick a “kids eat free” place.

First I go to kidseatfree.com. Yes, that is a real website. No, there is no free food on it.

In fact, it’s not very helpful. For Hawaii it only gives the names of hotels where kids are free. Because everyone in this state is on vacation I guess!

(See my previous rant [“Crib Tents I Love Thee”] on how Hawaii is still PART OF THE UNITED STATES, PEOPLE!)

So I just check some restaurant websites because I think I remember someone around here having a kids eat free promotion going on.

And there it is! It’s IHOP!

So off we go.

Now, let me just say, when a family of seven enters a restaurant, especially when included in that number is a pair of toddlers, the noise level in the place goes up two or three notches right off.

And that’s just walking IN!

So we finally get ourselves all seated.

Hostess: You need TWO highchairs?

Me: Um, yes. There‘s TWO babies here!

By the way, we didn't actually GET two highchairs. we got a highchair and a booster seat. Here's Baby Girl bouncing on the seat, filled with glee over her freedom.

Baby Boy didn't care much for the situation.

Then we have to get everyone to order.

That seems like such a simple proposition, doesn’t? Well, it isn’t.

Waitress: Can I get you guys something to drink?
Me: I’ll have a diet coke and two milks for the babies.
My Husband: I’ll have water.
ET: (looking up briefly from texting and using the minimum words possible) Diet coke. (going back to texting)

Pause. Silence. Waitress looks expectantly at the children.

Me: (sigh) Boo, what do you want to drink?
Boo: (something unintelligible)
Me: What?
Boo: (whispers to me) Hot chocolate.
Me: (to waitress) She’ll have hot chocolate.

Pause. Silence. We all look at GG.

Me: (sigh) GG, what do you want to drink?
GG points to the menu.
Me: No, not what do you want for dinner; what do you want to DRINK?

GG gets out the menu again. I am briefly distracted by Baby Boy shrieking for no apparent reason (maybe he's still mad over being the only twin stuck in a highchair) and when I come back to the conversation the waitress is walking off.

Me: Did you ever order a drink, GG?

GG shoves the menu towards me and points again. She has ordered some specialty drink called “Minionade,” one of their promotions from the movie “Despicable Me.” It’s just like lemonade, only twice as expensive, with a cool name and something sprinkled on top.

Way to slip one by Mom there, kid.

Here's a photo of Boo drinking the Minionade. Yep. GG didn't even FINISH it!

Ordering food progresses in much the same way, with the added twist of the waitress thinking I want a kids’ meal instead of an adult meal. Maybe because there are so many kids.

Or maybe because I ordered the chicken fingers.

Hey, you don’t have to be a kid to love chicken fingers!

The food comes in a fairly timely manner and we continue to be our noisy selves. Baby Boy and Baby Girl shriek intermittently. The kids engage in their usual dinnertime activities: insulting each other, making rude noises, and occasionally attempting to use each other for footstools.

And these are GIRLS! I can’t imagine what a bunch of sons would be like!

The nice quiet (normal) family at the next table is starting to look as if they’d like to flee.

We are seated in an oversized booth with parents on the outside, so OF COURSE every child in the family has to get up to use the bathroom. Some of them twice.

Boo tries the climb-under-the-table technique of getting out of the back of a booth, popping up in the aisle in front of a lady heading for the door, who jumps in surprise.

Then after the poor woman was nearly frightened to death by a kid rising from the floorboards, she trips and nearly falls over the shoe Baby Boy had flung into the aisle.

Here's a photo of Baby Boy chuckling over the whole thing.

Yes, we can really enhance everyone’s dining experience when we go out.

By the time we are (finally) ready to go, I think the manager was reconsidering that “kids eat free” promotion.

I mean, are we REALLY the kinds of people the restaurant wants to attract?

Oh, by the way, here's GG in the car on the way home.

I forgot to take her picture in the restaurant. Because she was in the bathroom. Again.

Girls!

Peace and Harmony at the Park

Thursday I took the kids to a picnic in the park with the ladies from my hula class. (Okay, YES I’m taking hula! I live in Hawaii; I’ve watched “Lilo and Stitch;” there you go! Don’t give me a hard time about it, okay?)


One of the ladies is moving (that happens a lot when you’re in the military, in case you haven’t noticed) and everyone all wanted to get together and wish her farewell.

The thing is, I just started taking this class in May, and I was gone all of June, so I don’t really know these people very well. So it’s a little weird to go to a “we’ll miss you” party for someone you’ve just met. But the hula instructor called and invited me personally, so I went.

I had trouble finding a parking place, so we had to walk a little ways to get to the picnic table where my group had gathered. Right out of the car we had some whining over who had to carry the bags with our lunch in them, some complaining over helping to push the babies’ strollers, and some shoving over, well, I don’t know what exactly.

On the short walk I was already weary of the constant sniping between the three older girls: “Mommy, she’s TOUCHING me!” “She’s not carrying ANYthing and I’m stuck with this big bag!” “Make her stop LOOKING at me!” Et cetera.

As we approached the group one of the ladies (whom I did not know) was holding forth on the importance of sibling relationships. She said growing up as an only child she had really not had the opportunity to learn to get along with others as well as children with siblings. Therefore she was planning on adopting a second child so that her daughter could learn these crucial skills in the home.

“So a child with siblings really learns to get ALONG with others in the family, working out conflicts and becoming a more caring and loving individual,” she was saying earnestly, as her cute and unsuspecting toddler stood obediently beside her.

I moved slightly to try to block her view of my own brood of loving siblings, one of whom had an elbow lodged in her sister’s ribs, another of whom was crying, and the third of whom was currently actively involved in tattling. Oh, and Baby Girl was reaching from her stroller to yank a toy from Baby Boy’s hands as he sat placidly nearby in his stroller.

Oh yeah. THEY’RE learning to live in peace and harmony with others through their sibling relationships.

How embarrassing!

So I spent the whole picnic trying to keep my little monsters out of this poor lady’s view.

Let her keep her illusions for now.

She’ll learn soon enough.

Weekend at the Lake, or The Agony of Being Boo

This past weekend we spent some time at my uncle’s lakehouse. The kids really love it there; they go swimming, boating, and even horseback riding.

One of the big things they like to do is jump off the roof of the boat dock into the lake. It’s kind of a rite of passage, to be old enough to not be scared to jump from such a height. (The lake is 25 feet deep so there’s no actual danger, by the way.)

In past summers we have had conflicts over this. One I remember in particular: GG (at about age six or seven) promised she would jump off if I did it first. So, even though I am prone to swimmers’ ear and HATE getting my head wet, I climbed up and jumped in.

And she didn’t jump.

And I got swimmers’ ear AGAIN.

But I digress….

Last summer Boo (now age seven) was afraid to do it, but this year she confided to me before we went to the lake, “The first thing I’m going to do when we get there is jump off the top.”

And she actually did, fairly soon after we arrived.

The problem came after the second or third time she jumped. She landed wrong and hurt her leg when she hit the water, so that the next day, while GG and ET were vying for the record number of jumps (I think we passed fifty by the end of the weekend), Boo was afraid to jump again.

Which would have been fine if she hadn’t kept climbing the ladder, standing on the roof, and agonizing at the edge. This prompted her sisters to say, “If you climb back down the ladder and don’t jump off, you’re an official chicken.”

NO! Not Official Chicken Status! Oh the horror!

So Boo proceeded to sit up there, torturing herself, and not jumping. On the roof of the boat dock. In the blazing sun. For FORTY-FIVE MINUTES!

Finally it was time to go back in, so my mom made the older girls promise NOT to bestow the title of Official Chicken on Boo because she was being forced to come back down the ladder by adults.

They reluctantly agreed, with one caveat: that she must jump off the top the NEXT day, or they would be forced to call it like they saw it. OFFICIAL CHICKEN, thy name shall be Boo.

So Boo came down the ladder and back into the house for dinner. And moped around all evening, until she forgot about it, of course.

But her sisters had not forgotten.

The next day we all went back to the dock. I’d already had a talk with GG and ET about the hurtfulness of name-calling, and they had been STRICTLY FORBIDDEN to call Boo an official chicken or any other type of chicken.

So they didn’t.

Instead they swam around, calling out things like, “Hey Boo! I like CHICKEN noodle soup!”

And, “Fried CHICKEN is my favorite dinner!”

And so on…

After another stern talking-to, they mostly stopped. But then later, after I’d gone back inside to put the twins down for a nap, Boo decided to climb up to the roof for another try.

Thus reviving the whole Official Chicken Discussion.

After another half-hour or so of Boo’s anguished deliberation on the roof, my uncle decided to put an end to the whole thing. He climbed the ladder, grabbed Boo up, and jumped in the water. Then he swam back and herded all the kids into the house.

Oddly enough, it worked. Boo came back in a much better mood than she had the night before, and nobody was calling anybody poultry of any type.

And now I guess everyone has forgotten about the whole thing.

Until NEXT summer....

Quote of the Day

http://www.ohmyachesandpains.info

Sometimes we have a Quote of the Day for our family.

Usually it's when someone says something that sounds completely ridiculous when you put it out of context, such as the things I wrote about before in "Stuff Parents Say." (Remember? "How would YOU like it if your sister put cheese in YOUR phone?" Yeah, I thought you'd recall that...)

Or it's something that just so perfectly typical of the person who says it, like ET's "Go outside and pee on a tree, dumb butt," which I wrote about in "Sibling Love."

But this Sunday we had some competition for Quote of the Day.

The first stand-out quote happened in the morning when we were all getting ready for church. Everyone was downstairs and ET was the last one upstairs getting dressed.

Then she hollered, "Mom! Baby Boy is upstairs and he's EATING my deodorant!"

That's right. He'd knocked down the safety gate, climbed the stairs, and decided to find out if Cocoa Butter Kiss Secret tasted as good as it smelled.

Maybe it did, because he actually took TWO tiny bites...

Then after church we were supposed to go to my sister-in-law's for a Father's Day lunch, but we ran into a little trouble, causing me to speak Notable Quote #2:

"Can we come over a little early? We got kicked out of church."

What had happend was, the lady from the nursery had come to the sanctuary DURING THE OPENING HYMN to tell me Baby Girl had a weird rash and could I come get her because they didn't know if it might be contagious.

Well, I knew it wasn't from eating personal care products, since that was the other one.

Actually, I knew she had a rash, because she has very sensitive skin and often has rashes. And I was pretty sure this one was prickly heat, seeing as it's like NINETY-EIGHT DEGREES OUTSIDE every day right now!

And she's not used to those kinds of temperatures, since she lives in paradise full-time these days...

Anyways, one of my friends who is a nurse actually came out of church with me and looked at it. She said it was most likely heat rash.

But we still had to leave the premesis once I'd removed the twins from the nursery and they'd begun running up and down the church halls, and it was only 11:15 a.m. So I piled all the kids in the car.

Which brings us to the final contender for Quote of the Day (drum roll please)...

"Stop beating your sister with a rubber glove!"

I was getting gas on the way to my sister-in-law's house and the kids were "entertaining themselves" in the car with a box of rubber gloves.

Why would we have a box of rubber gloves in the car, do you ask?

Well...on Saturday we visited my 90-year-old great-aunt at the nursing home. She is the sweetest lady; she always wants to give you something when you visit her.  But when you're in a nursing home, there's not that many things you have around to give away. So she gave me a box of rubber gloves.

She tried to give me a box of adult incontinece wipes too --"to wipe the babies' faces," she said-- but I declined. I was a little afraid the Depends Undergarmets weren't far behind...

I tried to decline the rubber gloves too, but once the kids saw them it was all over.

They were blowing the gloves up like balloons, wearing them and making weird noises, making them into bracelets... and, of course, pummeling one another with them.

So that was Sunday morning, before noon...

Don't even get me started on the REST of the day!

Sibling Love

“How good and pleasant it is when brothers and sisters live together in unity!”


This is a Bible verse (Psalm 133:1) my mother used to quote to my brother and me when we were fighting. As I read it, even now, it still sounds as if it’s being said through gritted teeth!

With my own kids, there are moments when they all are getting along and playing happily together, and this verse comes to mind. Unfortunately, these moments are rare.

A few months ago, ET, my 13-year-old daughter, was in the bathroom. In the grand tradition of teenagers, she is often in the bathroom. We are thinking of moving her bed in there.

On this particular day, GG (aged ten) started banging on the door. According to their father, the conversation went like this:

ET: Go away!
GG: But I have to GO!
ET: Use the other bathroom!
GG: Boo’s in there!
ET: Then go outside and pee on a tree, dumb-butt!

Of course, she was reprimanded for insulting her sister, and made to hurry up and get out of the bathroom. But my husband had to come and tell me about that last comment, because it’s just so typical of ET. I actually wrote that quote down because it was just ET in a nutshell.

Here's a photo of the door to her room. Enough said....

As the oldest child, she is the most responsible of all the siblings; however, she is also the bossiest. Last night she decided to clean her room. I rejoiced over this decision, since I haven’t actually seen her floor in a few months. But it was a big job, so she started looking for help.

I witnessed the following conversation in the kitchen:

ET: So…do you want to help me with something?
GG: (suspiciously) Why would I do that?
ET: I’d pay you $5.
GG: (even more suspiciously) What is it?
ET: Help me clean my room.
GG: Oh, okay!

They both went off together. ET seemed strangely cheerful about the arrangement. I thought it was nice that they were going to be working together and had come to such an amicable agreement. Since parting with $5 was involved, I should have been more suspicious.

About ten minutes later I heard screams coming from ET’s room. I sighed and called down the hallway.

Me: What’s going on back there?
ET: I fired GG!
Me: Why?
ET: She’s a lazy slacker!
GG: I am not!
ET: You’re fired! Get out!
GG: You’re a meanie!

Thus GG was ejected from the room. A few minutes later ET herself emerged, smiling sweetly at her next sister, Boo, who is seven.

ET: You want to earn $5?
Boo: Okay!

This only lasted about five minutes before Boo was back in the living room. I was surprised, mostly because no one was screaming this time.

Me: I thought you were helping ET clean her room?
Boo: I quit.
Me: Why?
Boo: She’s mean. She wanted me to do all the work and she just sat there.
GG: I know right?
Daddy: (looking up from the computer) She made YOU do all the work in HER room?
Me: She offered to pay them.
Daddy: (returning to the computer) Oh.
Boo: She said HELP her clean. She didn’t say do it ALL.
GG: I know. She’s a meanie.
Boo: Yeah.

So ET continued cleaning her room alone while her sisters watched TV in the living room.

A few minutes later one of ET’s friends showed up. She said she’d left her glasses in ET’s room during a sleepover the night before. I wished her good luck in finding anything in that room.

Then I heard the girl exclaiming over the sight of ET’s floor and went to investigate. Lo and behold! To my amazement, the floor was actually visible! And the glasses were located in a trice! I was shocked and congratulated ET on making such quick progress.

Me: Wow! Your sisters must have really helped!
ET: Yeah. But they quit so I don’t have to pay them.
Me: What?
ET: I figured if I made them do everything they’d get mad and quit. Then I wouldn’t have to pay them.
Me: (speechless)
ET: If only the babies were old enough to help…

She went back to cleaning cheerfully enough, and the room was done in about an hour. (Well, done according to her standards, meaning the mess on the floor had been moved to the dresser, the closet and the bed.) My husband and I were left to marvel at her diabolical mind.

But every once in a while, ET does get a little of her own back. I was giving the twins a bath one night last week and GG was helping me. ET came in and saw us all in there.


ET: Aw! I’ve got to GO!
GG: Go in the other bathroom.
ET: Boo’s in there!
GG: (with a big slow grin) Then go outside and pee on a tree!

She’d been waiting months to say that!