I have a weirdo sense of humor, and I don't always edit it when the kids are around. For example, I lose my patience when I hear "what's for dinner?" because I hear it all the time. Often I don't answer right away; inevitably, one of them comes in, peeks over my shoulder, and asks: "What are you doing?" Tonight, I answered: "Stirring in the hemlock." "What?" "You know, some poison." "MOOOMMY! That's NOT funny!!" Moments later, a small voice asks, "You were really joking, right?" "Of course. Get out of the kitchen. Now." Somedays, I just respond with this answer I got from a kids cookbook: "I'm making 'yuck, I hate it' and this saves us the trouble of hearing that later. Actually, we've dubbed a dish Mr W doesn't eat (chicken w/rice) 'yuck, I hate it.' He knows when I say that, he's on his own for dinner.
Anyway--I figure a little laughter helps me get through the day, and if it rubs off on them, then that's fine. I hope they can learn not to sweat the small stuff, but to have a good sense of humor about it. Afterall, not every glass of spilled milk needs a lecture.
Today, they had their buddies over. I'm in the kitchen, of course, baking them cookies, of course, and fending them off as they kept coming in: "How much longer? Are they done yet?"
I hear a alot of giggling, so I turn around as I hear Ben announce: "Barbie sacrifice."
He's holding two Barbies under the screen door, hoping to entice the dog (who as I've mentioned will chew anything) to come and get them. "Hey! What are you doing?" "Ritual Barbie sacrifice, Mom," he says, laughing. "Quit it, Ben, or you'll be sporting decapitated Barbies on your backpack Monday morning." "Aww, Mom."
My little angel listens to me by moving on to the large stuffed Barbie cat, Serafina. "Hey, Shadow...look, cat. Jump, Shadow, jump..."
"BEN! The cat is off limits too, buddy." Now they all look at me, with the "why" expression on their faces. "Oh, come on, guys. Do you really want to exchange your GameBoys for the Barbies? GameBoy sacrifice, anyone?" "No." "Okay then."
Since when did I start raising serial killers? They have no idea the Barbie and doll 'horror' (that's what they call it) that is about to be unleashed in this house as Audrey is very interested in all things dolly all of a sudden.
Their world is about to turn...pink, more than it already is. I'm envisioning that scene from "Toy Story" with all the dismembered dolls from Sid's room. I know that I'm probably wrong, and they will accomodate the little princess as much as possible because they do what she wants and like it; or she performs quite an effective knee-drop maneuver, and then they do what she wants anyway.
I think it will all work out in the end, as long as they don't start trying to melt Barbie and refrain from graduating to sacrificing real things. Like their little brother, for example.
That'll teach me to laugh and point out the "Practical Voodoo" book in "Lilo and Stitch."
"Mommy, how do you spell san-ter, san-teryah?"
Hmm. Better go gather up everyone's library cards, just to be safe.
(and I'm kidding, no one's ever asked to spell that...yet)