First of all, welcome to the new addy! If you’re a new reader, glad you found us! If you followed from the old link, glad you made the leap! I’ll be doing the weekly wrap up on Budgeting, Meal Planning, and Homemaking tomorrow. As you can see, something else came up…
Ah. Wolf. God love him.
Because, frankly, if he has any more ‘brilliant’ ideas any time soon, I may lose my mind.
Ok, around here, I’ll admit, we have a division of labour that’s generally in effect. Mommy for maintenance, Daddy for fun. That’s just how things seem to roll, and one of the downsides when you’re the one who’s home full-time, and disabled. Don’t get me wrong, we still have fun, but Daddy’s where the BIG FUN happens.
Take this weekend. Last night, to be specific. Wolf set our tent up in the yard, for the kids to spend the night in. And a couple of their friends.
Now, you might think, “A tent! How cute! What’s the big deal?”
Uh…you haven’t considered the SIZE of the tent we would require, have you. We’re not talking a wee little pup tent, folks. We’re talking, folks have smaller first apartments than this tent. It’s The Tent That Ate The Yard.
Here’s photographic evidence:
Wolf wasn’t able to get the portable fire pit put together last night, so we tucked the kids in for the night, and congratulated ourselves on being smart enough to accomplish a sleepover without having to listen to the accompanying noise.
And God laughed.
Did you know that four children in a tent can make enough noise to be heard *inside* the house? Didja? I didn’t. I do *now* though.
Wolf turns to me and says, “Honey, you better go tell them to settle down and go to sleep.”
“Me?! Why me?”
“You’re scarier than I am.”
How the heck does that work? Didn’t the old threat used to be, “Wait til your Dad gets home!”? Not in our house. Apparently, I’m more likely to eat a child than he is. Or something.
So I did. I went and told them, “Ok, guys, that’s enough. Time for sleep.”
And did it again. And again. And again.
Last time was at 2am. When I caught sight of the bottom half of one child diving back into the tent.
Did I mention that *Wolf*, the guy who’s idea this was, was sound asleep a couple of hours before?
On the good note, one childhood memory made.
On the other hand, two freaking am.
At this point, I’m eternally grateful that the fire pit didn’t happen. I can’t imagine what the results would’ve been if roasted marshmallows had been involved. And fire. Probably a reenactment of Lord of the Flies. With me as Piggy.
Next time, Wolf and I are sleeping in the tent. They can have the house. That way, I can get some sleep.