Bedtime around here is a ritual affair and is normally fairly simple and routine. Everyone goes for a last bathroom break, runs to their beds and gets a cookie but sometimes when one little thing goes a little off kilter it generally all goes horribly wrong and something like this........
OK everyone wake up its time for bed, hurry, hurry, go pee now. Good babies now everyone off to bed..... Archer here. Quiver come. Good Quinn......Ripley here, Ripley wrong bed, Archer for gods sakes get over here.....Kira get out of there and let Ripley in her bed. Quinn where did you go? Cricket, Cricket, Cricket.......Where's Quiver? What are you doing still outside, get to bed Quiver!.......NO ONE'S GOING TO GET A COOKIE IF YOU DON'T GET TO BED! Good Kira. Cricket in, in Cricket, all the way, hey your not Cricket! Quinn get to your own damn bed! ......
Kira/Ripley/George/Quinn/Paul/Ringo/Archer/Cricket/Quiver/Whoever the hell you are! GET TO BED!
Kira/Ripley/George/Quinn/Paul/Ringo/Archer/Cricket/Quiver/Whoever the hell you are! GET TO BED!
Then it hits me. My sister, brothers and I all grew up thinking our name was "Vicki/Peter/Jane/Greg/whoever-the-hell-you-are!" It's now official.... I've turned into twisted version of my mother only with dogs not kids.
I still think I got the better deal, 6 dogs beats 4 kids any day.
what a great ritual! I wonder if the cookie part would work for kids?
ReplyDeleteGreat idea, I wish I could try that at my work, "Hey you suicidal female prisoner if I give you a cookie will you shut up and go to bed." Could work thanks for the tip
ReplyDeletePerhaps a cookie sprinkled with effexor, risperidone and a touch of lithium?
ReplyDelete