Shnacks
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
The children got home from school today and wanted to go straight outside to play. Fine by me, I get some peace and they get good and tired so they'll go to bed without a fight.
Youngest Child got off of his little bus and stormed in the house.
"Wanna go outside?" I asked. "STEEKAH," demands Youngest Child.
So I dig up a sticker sheet and give him a snowman for his hand. You see, Speech Delay + New England Accent turns "sticker" into "steekah".
"Now go outside."
"Oushide?" he says.
"Yes. Oushide." Youngest Child toddles off.
After about, oh, 90 seconds, I start to hear screaming coming from the backyard. This is nothing unusual. I stick my head out the window to investigate. Oldest Child, of course, reports to me on what has just happened.
OC: "Mum-MAY, [Middle Child] fell off the swing and got hit in the eye"
MC: [howls]
YC: "Mumma, [Middle Child] cwyyyyyyyin'."
K: "Whoever can't play nice is coming in the house RIGHT NOW."
[howling stops]
A few seconds later, Youngest Child is screaming, for no apparent reason. He's going through a whining phase right now, and is actually hoarse this week from screaming and whining so much.
YC: [hoarse whining]
K: "Whatsa matter, honey?"
YC: [now that he has an audience, whines turn to cat-like shrieks]
K: "Want a snack?" (magic words)
YC: [stops] "SHHHNAAAAAAAAAAAACK???"
"shnaaaaaaaaacks..."
Youngest Child tears ass past the swing set, and around the back of the house. I follow his progress through the windows. At each open window, I hear him excitedly say "SHNACK! SHNACK!" I hear him pound up the steps and slam the door behind him.
He stands there, staring at me expectantly. "SHNACK!" he demands.
K: [opens the cabinet] "Want crackers?"
YC: "QUACKAS!"
K: "Do you want Juice or Milk?"
YC: "UK!"
K: [pours milk]
YC: "TANTOO!" (translation: thank you)
[Youngest Child proceeds to stuff his face and slurp his milk]
YC: "Bye Mumma. Go oushide."
K: "Happy trails, kid."
YC: "appy tailsid."
K: "Copycat."
YC: "oppyhat."
K: "Cut it out. Go outside."
YC: "cuyiyout. goshide."
K: "I mean it."
YC: "meatit. meatit."
K: [carries YC to the door before I have to kill him]
K: "Shit," [mutters to self as screen door closes]
YC: "SHIT!!!"
As always, his speech impediment disappears when he's repeating a swear.
A short time later, Middle Child appears at the door, covered head to toe in dirt. "Ah, shit, you've been digging in the corner again, haven't you."
YC: [at the top of his hoarse little lungs] "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!"
[old ladies walk by, looking disgusted]
At this point I decide that it's time for my little angels to come inside to be hosed down. Of course I have to drag them in. They cry as if I've been beating them. More disgusted looks from old ladies. Those bitches probably cracked their kids' asses with belts on a daily basis back in the day, but they're looking at ME like I'm the child abuser.
I think that I hate old ladies.
Oh FUCK YOU TOO you old bag!
Youngest Child got off of his little bus and stormed in the house.
"Wanna go outside?" I asked. "STEEKAH," demands Youngest Child.
So I dig up a sticker sheet and give him a snowman for his hand. You see, Speech Delay + New England Accent turns "sticker" into "steekah".
"Now go outside."
"Oushide?" he says.
"Yes. Oushide." Youngest Child toddles off.
After about, oh, 90 seconds, I start to hear screaming coming from the backyard. This is nothing unusual. I stick my head out the window to investigate. Oldest Child, of course, reports to me on what has just happened.
OC: "Mum-MAY, [Middle Child] fell off the swing and got hit in the eye"
MC: [howls]
YC: "Mumma, [Middle Child] cwyyyyyyyin'."
K: "Whoever can't play nice is coming in the house RIGHT NOW."
[howling stops]
A few seconds later, Youngest Child is screaming, for no apparent reason. He's going through a whining phase right now, and is actually hoarse this week from screaming and whining so much.
YC: [hoarse whining]
K: "Whatsa matter, honey?"
YC: [now that he has an audience, whines turn to cat-like shrieks]
K: "Want a snack?" (magic words)
YC: [stops] "SHHHNAAAAAAAAAAAACK???"
"shnaaaaaaaaacks..."Youngest Child tears ass past the swing set, and around the back of the house. I follow his progress through the windows. At each open window, I hear him excitedly say "SHNACK! SHNACK!" I hear him pound up the steps and slam the door behind him.
He stands there, staring at me expectantly. "SHNACK!" he demands.
K: [opens the cabinet] "Want crackers?"
YC: "QUACKAS!"
K: "Do you want Juice or Milk?"
YC: "UK!"
K: [pours milk]
YC: "TANTOO!" (translation: thank you)
[Youngest Child proceeds to stuff his face and slurp his milk]
YC: "Bye Mumma. Go oushide."
K: "Happy trails, kid."
YC: "appy tailsid."
K: "Copycat."
YC: "oppyhat."
K: "Cut it out. Go outside."
YC: "cuyiyout. goshide."
K: "I mean it."
YC: "meatit. meatit."
K: [carries YC to the door before I have to kill him]
K: "Shit," [mutters to self as screen door closes]
YC: "SHIT!!!"
As always, his speech impediment disappears when he's repeating a swear.
A short time later, Middle Child appears at the door, covered head to toe in dirt. "Ah, shit, you've been digging in the corner again, haven't you."
YC: [at the top of his hoarse little lungs] "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!"
[old ladies walk by, looking disgusted]
At this point I decide that it's time for my little angels to come inside to be hosed down. Of course I have to drag them in. They cry as if I've been beating them. More disgusted looks from old ladies. Those bitches probably cracked their kids' asses with belts on a daily basis back in the day, but they're looking at ME like I'm the child abuser.
I think that I hate old ladies.
Oh FUCK YOU TOO you old bag!
sKWeez'd by K @ 4:33 PM | Perma-link
1 Comments:
At 9/28/2005 11:20 AM,
Anonymous said…
Oh, now you've done it, my YC wants to see the pig with the human teeth again and AGAIN! "I wan' the pig one, the happy piiiiiggg. I wanna twy that again"
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