And then this,
And finally, this:
They disappeared, which was excellent as I had driven them out of the house and off their electronics with shrewish shrieks. Stop fighting! Go outside! You mean to tell me that you can't figure out anything to do but play with that crap?
You fish-wives know the drill:
To the boys' credit, they picked up a ramp lying in an alley near our house, brought it home and rigged a go-kart on a skateboard. Henry amiably pushed Oliver who actually wore a helmet, and then -- lo and behold -- they put their two heads (knuckle generally comes to mind) and plotted out a real Go-Kart plan, one that will use their own money. Wheels are involved as is paint and wood and numerous trips to the newly opened OSH around the corner.
I feel triumphant. Less like the fishwife shrew and more like I've been tamed -- albeit Liz Taylor-style.
