Somebody call CPS right now. Clearly, I'm the most unreasonable mother on the planet. It's imperative that my children are given a home where they are the boss, so as to allow them to live out the remaining days of childhood happy and free.
Why am I being unreasonable, you ask? Well, it's a long list, but it boils down to these things right now:
I won't let Caleb watch cartoons from the minute he's home from school to the minute his head hits the pillow in the evening. Why? Trust me when I say that he gets enough brain rot on the weekend around here.
That's unreasonable to him.
Video games are another area of contention. And this little monkey has even tried the "Mom, if Matthew wants to play, can we play?" route. Matthew knows that doesn't work, Caleb just frustrates himself by thinking that it will and then being disappointed.
It's unreasonable for me to not allow them hours and hours of game competition. Which, by the way, I had done the night before, even though it was a school night.
Give Caleb an inch and he'll take Lambeau Field.
There are 4 rooms on the upper level of our home. Jon and I use the one at the top of the stairs as sleeping quarters. That gives those boys three- YES, THREE- rooms to use at their hearts content.
As they are upstairs right now with visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads, they are unaware that a new unreasonable rule is being instituted tomorrow.
The world's largest atomic bomb hit the playroom in the last few days. And I am going to unreasonably require that they clean it up. I am sure that there will be bickering and tears, but it has to be done. I'm no longer letting them live in filth- for the sake of the poor sap that will get stuck with each of them in college.
Oh, and I make them read. And shower. And be ready for the bus on time. And treat each other with respect.
Obviously I have no idea what I'm doing.