It was a beautiful morning today-- the kind of January morning that makes me very glad to live in Florida. We finished our morning subjects early and took off for the park before lunch. The kids played and ran around, explored the edges of the lake and ate a snack.
We came home just in time for Jamie's nap. He went down easily and I fixed the kids a yummy, healthy lunch of peanut-butter apples and hardboiled eggs (or, as Judah so endearingly calls them; "eggs-that-you-hold-in-you-hand"). Since they were sitting angelically at the table, scarfing down their healthy lunches and Jamie was contentedly sleeping, I felt that it would be safe to walk the twenty-five feet out the door to take a load of laundry to the washers.
(in case you can't see where I'm going with this..)
I walked back inside to the sound of a screeeeeam of rage from Judah, a subsequent wail from Jamie and the sight of hard-boiled egg (the kind you can hold in you hand) spewed All. Over. The.
As in, Judah chased Sofi all over the house, spitting chewed-up hard-boiled egg (the kind you can hold in your hand, or, apparently, spit all over your sister) at her, while she egged him on (if you will pardon the pun) with shouts of outraged dignity. All in the not-even-five minutes it takes me to load up two washers.
I vacuumed the kitchen, living room, dining room, hallway and couch. Vacuumed, I fear, to no avail, as the whole egg-spitting-tag-game had involved all kinds of grinding egg yolks into the carpet. Picture with me for a moment what that's going to smell like in, oh....say, five days?
And that's why we now have an official Rule in our house:
You may NOT spit food (of any kind) at your sister. FOR ANY REASON.
Also, I had no IDEA one egg could cover so much surface area! There's an interesting 8th grade math problem for ya...
Also, I have no idea how it all got started. I told them not to tell me. I'd rather not know.