Monday, 02 June 2008

• Bum Rush

  Typical night at my sister's house with her four kids. The two older ones were playing in their room, the three-year old was climbing on my husband like a jungle gym and the baby was screaming while my sister and I finished dinner.

  The nine year old likes to set up shop for things and sell them to you. Her choice lately has been a spa. She'll sucker you for a dollar, give you a one-handed (her hands are tiny mind you) massage, maybe squirt you with some nasty perfume and send you on your way. Oh, and she likes to name them really strange, french-sounding names.

  Well, my sister was losing her mind as usual, as you woud expect with that many kids, and here is the conversation that went down right there in the kitchen.

  Sister - "Olivia, stop bugging us. We're talking. Go play in your room."
  Niece - "Buuutttt, moooooom. I set up the spa and you guys have to come in here."
  Sister - "We will in a minute. We're talking. Go play for a second."
  Niece - "But mooooom. You say that everytime and you never do."

  Then my sister exploded like the incredible hulk with veins coming out of her neck and yelled,

  "OLIVIA! NO ONE IS GOING TO BUM RUSH THE PUSSYCAT SALON RIGHT NOW! GO!"

  This is everyday life people.

  Then I spit my mashed potatoes right across the table.

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