It's too early in the morning to buy a gun
/
This morning, it being a holiday and all, I was ecstatic to sleep in.
At a quarter to eight, I felt my bed jiggling and heard the whispers.
"Is she awake yet?"
"No. Not yet."
"Is she alive?"
"Yeah, she's breathing. Just not awake."
"Dangit!"
I cracked a wary eyelid to find my boys' faces a mere three inches from mine, studying my every move, searching for any signs of life.
"She's awake!" they shouted in unison. I reached blindly for my glasses, looked at the clock, and wearily dropped my head back onto the pillow. I groaned and wondered silently if it was legal to sell kids on Craig's List.
"Mom, can we go to the store? Dad said I could spend my money on a new airsoft gun and I have the money. Can we go now? Let's go to the store. Pleasecanwegotothestorerightnow?"
Apparently, the Husband had given him permission to buy yet another massive piece of deadly machinery.
I acquiesced, trusting that the Husband knew what he was doing. I threw on my sweatpants (breaking my hard and fast rule of never going out undressed) and drove to the sporting goods store. Tragically, weapons of this magitude require an 18-year-old to purchase them, so I was forced out of the car and into the store against my will. The boys practically ran through the store to the gun section, and before I could catch up to them, were running back to the register, gun in hand.
Once home, it took some serious work to get it out of the package. Both brains nearly exploded with glee when it finally came loose from the plastic. The aim was tested and ammunition loaded. I think they would have gladly fired a few test shots at my leather sofa had I not been there to intervene.
The backyard is a much better alternative, don't you think?
Apparently, acting as a chauffeur for their weapons acquisition is enough to make me "like seriously the best mom ever!"
I think, however, I share Hannah's sentiment on the matter:
{Yawn} Can I go back to bed now?
At a quarter to eight, I felt my bed jiggling and heard the whispers.
"Is she awake yet?"
"No. Not yet."
"Is she alive?"
"Yeah, she's breathing. Just not awake."
"Dangit!"
I cracked a wary eyelid to find my boys' faces a mere three inches from mine, studying my every move, searching for any signs of life.
"She's awake!" they shouted in unison. I reached blindly for my glasses, looked at the clock, and wearily dropped my head back onto the pillow. I groaned and wondered silently if it was legal to sell kids on Craig's List.
"Mom, can we go to the store? Dad said I could spend my money on a new airsoft gun and I have the money. Can we go now? Let's go to the store. Pleasecanwegotothestorerightnow?"
Apparently, the Husband had given him permission to buy yet another massive piece of deadly machinery.
I acquiesced, trusting that the Husband knew what he was doing. I threw on my sweatpants (breaking my hard and fast rule of never going out undressed) and drove to the sporting goods store. Tragically, weapons of this magitude require an 18-year-old to purchase them, so I was forced out of the car and into the store against my will. The boys practically ran through the store to the gun section, and before I could catch up to them, were running back to the register, gun in hand.
Once home, it took some serious work to get it out of the package. Both brains nearly exploded with glee when it finally came loose from the plastic. The aim was tested and ammunition loaded. I think they would have gladly fired a few test shots at my leather sofa had I not been there to intervene.
The backyard is a much better alternative, don't you think?
Apparently, acting as a chauffeur for their weapons acquisition is enough to make me "like seriously the best mom ever!"
I think, however, I share Hannah's sentiment on the matter:
{Yawn} Can I go back to bed now?
