Okay, my kids haven't been cute lately.
Physically, they are adorable. But they haven't been cute.
They've been beligerant, stubborn, tempermental, and unreasonable.
And that's just been within the last five minutes.
I have spent more time in the past few days yelling, "Bug, let your brother up right now!" or "Boo, stopping biting your brother!" and my personal favorite "What is the matter with you two!"
They are trying to kill each other and destroy our house. And they fight like girls, pulling hair and biting. Wait a minute. Let me rephrase that. They don't fight like girls, because I would never pull anyone's hair. I'd just cold cock them. Very simple and throrough. (I tried it with my mother in law, but didn't hit her quite hard enough. If only I'd known what was to come, she'd still be flat on her back twelve years later.)
And I don't want to know how anyone tastes. That's very Donner party-esque. Even on a frozen mountain top, I think I'd have to opt for the vegetarian entre. (I'm sorry, that piece of Mrs. Jones thigh looks very tasty, but how about something with a little less saturated fat?)
I didn't expect this much fighting for years. I thought they'd be at least approaching puberty. And then I thought it would be their Daddy's problem, with me being a small, dainty woman and all. I imagined him handling all the testosterone driven battles, right along with explaining the birds and the bees and why they should not have sex until they are at least fifty and married. (It will fall off if you use it too much, son!)
Nope. No such luck. Instead, I'm pulling my toddler off my preschooler and vice versa. And getting bruised and battered and bitten to boot.
I think this summer, I'm just going to create a mud pit, strip them down, and let them have at it. It would be a lot less damaging to everyone involved, especially me.
At least I could make some money selling tickets.