The Temper Monster

We have a Temper Monster living in our house.
it's not a cute, fluffy monster like on Sesame Street.
It's not even iconic like Godzilla.
It's just a pain in my ass.
The TM throws tantrums, runs away, yells and screams until I want to pull his hair out.
The TM convinces my normally sweet children to act in a manner that reminds me of Jack Nicholson in his younger, crazier days.
Or Hannibal Lecter. So far, we have had no cannibalism. So far.
I don't have three children and a child like husband.
I have four children and a child like husband.
And The TM takes up a good amount of my time.
So I'm putting him on warning.
"TM, henceforth you will stop telling my children all sorts of rotten ways to behave, speak, and think. They are normally good kids, and you are making them horrible. I won't have it anymore. I am hereby declaring war. I am done pandering to your bad manners, your naughty ways, and your efforts to destroy our family. From this day on, I'm going to be going Rambo on your arse. This is the only warning you will be given. Get out or face the consequences."
Game on, buddy.
And the TM just flipped oatmeal at me.
Lovely.