"C'mon, you hit me in the bazooka!"
"How's your banana?"
"DIE! DIE! DIE!!!"
We are hosting 3 other 10-11 year olds tonight to celebrate Peter's birthday. They don't talk - they yell. They yell everything. At the top of their lungs.
And they haven't even had their brownie sundaes yet. I'm in big trouble. Huge.
My friend has twin girls - their birthday is tomorrow and they are having a girls' sleepover tonight, 1 street away. In the future, I'm sure we will have to booby-trap all the doors of this house on sleepover night to stop them from invading the girls' party. The words "panty raid" come to mind, but I'm pretty sure they don't call it that anymore. Plus, I hate that "p" word. Not gonna say it if I can help it.
The boys are playing Wii while yelling, laughing, screeching, and making various sound effects that I'm sure the game creators never thought of. It is during times like these that I think (1) I am so out of my element and Sean clearly has to take the lead on evenings such as this, and (2) don't you agree that if there is a need for late night moderation, that it should be Sean? While I gently slumber? I used to have slumber parties as a kid and I'm pretty sure they were NOT as loud as this. Plus, I was an angel and if there ever was a problem, it was never me. I'm pretty sure all this is true.
OK - back to boy land. It's gonna be a long night.