We took SmartyPants to Daddy's parent's house Saturday night to do a family sleepover. What this means is that Daddy's parents got suckered into babysitting three of their other grandchildren and they needed back up. Cool! We got this. Oh, I forgot to pack the duct tape? Crap.
After an evening of watering and feeding four maniac critter-children and forcing them to play in the sweltering Oklahoma evening heat (so as to tire them thoroughly) we started bath time and made a fluffy community pallet for sleeping on the living room floor. As the evening was winding down and Harry Potter was droning in the distance, hysteria erupted.
Grams bought a gaudy plastic ramp with fake mud pits and suck built right into it. Said ramp came with a monster truck. The eldest grandchild is nearly ten and a girl and entirely uninterested in this awful toy. The three boys, however, are completely interested in this awful toy. And of course, there is only one monster truck and a bunch of stupid micro machines that wont even go down the ramp. So, who wants the monster truck the most? All of the boys. Ugh! After a little screaming, some fit throwing and a snap-decision by yours truly, the monster truck was given to SmartyPants (he was the last one seen with unchallenged possession, therefore it must have been snatched by one of the other two in order to instigate such a ruckus). Upon announcing my decision and being received by groans and whines, I state (loudly) "I am sick sick and tired of that dumb truck! I am going to pull the tires off of it and throw it away!"
To which SmartyPants says (with a smirk) "You're sick and tired of it? You wanna pull off it's tires? Get it? Tired, tires?" And then he laughs like a lunatic. I think he gets it from me.
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