In a Handbasket
This is bad.
This is very, very bad.
I'm going to pay big-time for this. I do realize this.
This morning when I got up, my kids were downstairs using a half a bottle of Dawn liquid dish detergent to wash Jane's tea set. There was soap and water everywhere and something incredibly sticky on the floor.
(I slept in until 7:30 and that was apparently my punishment.)
The girls were WIDE FREAKING AWAKE. And they wanted me to be the evil queen who had captured them and turned them into servant girls.
I made them eat breakfast while I made some coffee.
And then I, well, got an idea.
Imperiously, I ordered the Smaller One to do the Windexing. The Larger One was put out--apparently, SHE wanted to do the Windexing.
But I had (evil) plans for her.
"On your hands and knees, Wench," I commanded, handing her a spray bottle of hardwood floor cleaner and a rag.
"Oh, thank you, my Queen!" she said.
I sipped some coffee, watching the flurry of cleaning for a good ten minutes before all interest in this little endeavor evaporated into thin air.
I, the Queen, finished the hardwood mopping and then I paid my little servant girls an extra dollar on their allowance, plus some gummi bears (breakfast of champions.)
Later, the girls asked me if we could play this "Being Maids" game again some time. I told them we could if they were very, very good.
I'm going straight to hell, aren't I?
This is very, very bad.
I'm going to pay big-time for this. I do realize this.
This morning when I got up, my kids were downstairs using a half a bottle of Dawn liquid dish detergent to wash Jane's tea set. There was soap and water everywhere and something incredibly sticky on the floor.
(I slept in until 7:30 and that was apparently my punishment.)
The girls were WIDE FREAKING AWAKE. And they wanted me to be the evil queen who had captured them and turned them into servant girls.
I made them eat breakfast while I made some coffee.
And then I, well, got an idea.
Imperiously, I ordered the Smaller One to do the Windexing. The Larger One was put out--apparently, SHE wanted to do the Windexing.
But I had (evil) plans for her.
"On your hands and knees, Wench," I commanded, handing her a spray bottle of hardwood floor cleaner and a rag.
"Oh, thank you, my Queen!" she said.
I sipped some coffee, watching the flurry of cleaning for a good ten minutes before all interest in this little endeavor evaporated into thin air.
I, the Queen, finished the hardwood mopping and then I paid my little servant girls an extra dollar on their allowance, plus some gummi bears (breakfast of champions.)
Later, the girls asked me if we could play this "Being Maids" game again some time. I told them we could if they were very, very good.
I'm going straight to hell, aren't I?
Comments
I only wish I were smart enough to pull that off!
What is it with the gummy bears? Really.
As long as there's a Starbucks in Hell (and you know there is) and either a yarn shop or perhaps some evil sheep, we'll be fine.
jmokeeffe