Oh God. Not again, now what?
Are they going to tell me we have ants on the counter? Did someone poop in the bath tub? Are we all out of cheese or spaghetti o’s again?
I shudder whenever one of my children start a sentence off with a question. It leaves too much to the imagination and almost nothing surprises me anymore.
The last time one of my kids had begged me to guess what was stuck inside a wall, we had a 10 minute power surge and my now 6 year old had charred finger tips, 4 feet of static hair and we ended up with a melted army man stuck inside the outlet in their bathroom.
So my 11 year old is standing in front me with a look of
horror, amusement on his face while he jumps from one foot to the other in excitement.
And it was so freaky that I hesitated to ask.
So I just looked at him in silence waiting for the suspense to be too much for him to keep quiet while he finally burst out, “There’s a huge hole in brothers wall.”
I drop my head down and shake it around as I ask, “And…????” To which he replies, “Well, someone’s arm is stuck in it. Wanna guess who’s?” And before I can say nope, I don’t, I hear the 16 year old yelling, “Stop trying to pull your arm out! You’re breaking it!”
So I race into the boys room where I see my daughter standing there with only the bottoms of her bathing suit on, a toothbrush in her mouth, her fathers dress up shoes on her feet and her right arm up to the shoulder in my sons bedroom wall.
My first obvious question? “Huh?”
My second? “Huh?”
And as 4 boys are giving me different stories, I’m trying to calm down a hysterical 5 year old and figure out how to get her arm free without calling the fire department.
Trying to pull her arm out didn’t work, that only made her scream louder and left itchy white stuff on the floors.
My other option? Make the hole bigger.
A few knocks here, a couple of knocks there and finally there was enough room for me to put my arm over my daughters and pull hers out.
This way I get all scratched up instead of her and can blame the cat when my husband asks why it looks like I’ve been shoving nails up my arm.
It seems a few months back the 13 year old had an attitude and had kicked his door open in a fit of hysterics, which resulted in a door knob size hole in his wall.
He had neglected to inform his father and myself of this little error in judgement to avoid punishment.
Well, once the 6 year old had found the hole he figured if he shoved a hammer in there, he could poke another hole in the wall to the bathroom.
Because he’s convinced his brothers steal his Nintendo DS games and plays them in the bathroom. He just needs proof.
I stared at son #5 in disbelief and asked, “What was your plan son?” Were you going to stick your head thru the wall and say, “Here’s Johnny!”
So when the hammer didn’t work, he thought maybe his sister’s arm could create a black hole large enough for him to perform his peeping Tom duties. All he had to do was convince her that there was candy behind the magic wall and she could eat as much as she could grab.
So I ran to the grocery store, bought some spakle, handed the boys putty knives, hard hats, goggles, told them to get to work and to repeat after me in case daddy ever notices, “It was like this when we moved in.”