My kids have telekinetic powers. And they're getting stronger. How else can you explain this? (The photo is forthcoming...technical difficulties called I lost the fork!)
Or the one Christmas candy I got today sneaking out from it's hiding place 3 times since I started writing this? Why else are there nearly empty salad dressing containers under my couch and butter under another? And how did that blue glitter glue get onto the bench by the door all by itself?
Thing 1 has an obsession with a lost brother of his who was a girl. She grew up and went away on a train. Big frown and teary eyes. (Cutest frown on the planet) Sorry I can’t help… next I overhear him talking to Thing 2 about it. Thing 2’s reply. Oh, that’s bad. My brother got shot. I have a new brother! He grew up! It’s mommy! OK, I know this isn’t an Oedipus Complex, but what kind of complex is it?
The only logical explanation for all the things I forget. Like driving over to an IEP, walking right past big signs and the pickup stand for items ordered at the last fundraiser that I wrote down on my calendar to pick up, through the IEP and back past all that, only to get home and get a call reminding me to come pick the items up before the hour is up. And forgetting that I put a wet boot on the couch downstairs. What? I remember putting it on the heat register in the living room upstairs to dry out and it just disappears. No one can explain it’s disappearance. Until Enigma says, “You put it on the couch downstairs, don’t you remember? I asked you why you were putting it there.” She goes downstairs and comes up with boot in hand. Uh, Gaslight? Or dementia?
What is it with the action hero strung up with yarn from one end of the things’ room to the other so I can try to remember not to trip over it? And they have now taped their door shut with duct tape twice, masking tape once, and a whole roll of scotch tape disappeared to various and sundry projects of theirs. Too bad I won’t have any to wrap the presents with. And the straw sculptures are multiplying like rabbits.
Why is Gigio compelled to make farty “motorcycle noises” and screeches incessantly day and night? It’s like some form of Chinese torture. Soon we will not be able to control our collective compulsion to put a sock in it.
OTHER ILLS OF A MORE MEDICAL NATURE
Friday I got the honors of taking Gigio and Carino to their school Christmas party. I figured there would be enough chaos without bringing my whole family there. When we got home we found out that Thing 2 microwaved the juice and then dropped it on his foot, bruising and burning it. He didn’t make any noise. Enigma and Papi only found out because the honest criminal ratted on him. One day he is really going to do something big to himself and we won’t even know. (paranoia). Thing 1 came crying to me one day and told me that Thing 2 “broke his heart” by kicking him in the stomach. Thing 2 has his own little confusion going on. We have a computer game called Bookworm Adventure. He comes to me one day and tells me he wants to play the “Book of Wormon”. That, my friends, is about how the last week has gone. And, in truth, I am not crazy, It’s been clinically proven but that’s another post.