No School!!

There is no school today in our district. Heaven help me. It isn't even noon, and I have been breathing fire for an hour.

When my older son is not properly channeled, he will use his powers for evil and not good.  His brain is overactive, and he can't communicate those thoughts. To compensate, he gets into everything. He's taken apart our toilets. One day he unscrewed all the knobs on our lamps so that we couldn't turn on the lights at dusk. He adores the attic, and don't even try to screw it shut because he'll get a screwdriver, stack toys on end and unscrew the opening himself. He can beat just about any lock. It's a game to him. He LOVES and gets great satisfaction from this. He'll eat chalk, pencils and, oh, YUM--crayons! He is a master at creating a situation in one area of the house so that he can get to what he really wants while I'm tending to the first mess.

Then there is my younger son, who can spew more words in a single minute than any child I've ever known. He is relentless! Often, the topics are degrees of severity of tornadoes, every fact there is to know about The Titanic, bakugans, any game on his Nintendo DSi and, yes, lately land and water formations. His mind is constantly inventing--a bridge to go over certain land formations or a model of the Titanic or various destruction scenes do to severe weather. And he absolutely must discuss every detail  over and over and over and over and over and over again until I'm ready to pluck out my eyebrows one hair at a time.

Usually, while I'm admonishing older son for his mischief, younger son is at my heels, continuing his conversations without breathing and seemingly unaware that I AM GETTING FRIED!

When I am fried, I handle each fire with less grace than the one before. Younger son turns up the intensity of his conversation as I'm getting stressed. Older son, today, is showing a lovely new tic that he learned recently, which is to push in his penis with his finger and then very quickly push in his eyeball with the same finger. Hands in pants for penis. Hands out and up for eyeball.  The tic increases with anxiety.

Therefore, the scene goes something like this:

Older son pulls chair beneath attic fan and begins to pull out insulation from the attic in an attempt to enter the space through an alternate route. I discover/react. Hands in pants. Penis. Hands out of pants to eyeball.  Younger son drinking in the disaster scene with great joy and then says that he bets the Titanic didn't have insulation. And, would insulation float? What would happen if we put insulation into the bathtub and filled it with water? Or, what if the bathtub had insulation and jello? Did they have Jello on the Titanic? Chatchatchatchatchatchatchatchat. I ask younger son to give me ONE MINUTE to clean mess, but then older son runs out the back door and into the yard with no clothes on. I yell as I notice he  now has insulation itch on his body. Hand to penis. Hand to eye. scratch entire body while running. I run after him with some clothing. Younger son runs after us and steps in dog doo doo. (who can have a clean/manicured yard amidst this chaos?). Chatchatchatchatchat.

That's it! The plan is to contain these children and run to The Mom Cave as soon as possible! It's days like this that make me wish it had a wet bar..or, a massage table...oooohhhhh, and how about a spa boy?

Meeeeooooowwww!