Family Rules

Last week on an airplane, I was looking across the aisle at  Mikias's  handsome profile.  He was watching a movie with Kurt and didn't notice me admiring him.  Something looked different about him.  It took me a minute but I figured out what it was. His normally long curled eyelashes were little stubs.

"What happened to your eyelashes?"

"Huh? I have no idea what you are talking about?"

"Did you cut them?

"Oh yeah, I did that at school when I was bored."

"That is NOT okay, you cannot cut your eyelashes!"


"Your eyelashes protect your eyes from getting stuff in them." (Not only that, they are the perfect frame for his beautiful eyes.)

"Okay, do you want to make that a family rule, no eyelash cutting?"

"Sure, if you think that would help."
A few days ago, Jemberu came into the kitchen demanding my full attention.

"Watch me be a cowboy."  In his red pajamas with the polar bears he didn't look much like a cowboy.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pajamas.  He walked over to me bow-legged and tied up his imaginary horse.

He turned to an imaginary foe and drawled, "I don't like you and you don't like me.  We both know that this here town isn't big enough for the both of us."

He dramatically turned his head away and spit.  On my floor.  Not pretend spit.  Real spit.

I gasped in horror.

He turned back to me, tipped his imaginary ten gallon hat and said, "Sorry you had to see that, Ma'am."

"Jem, great cowboy impression, but you CANNOT spit in the house!"

"What about after I brush my teeth?"

"Yes in the sink. No on the floor."

"Want to make that a family rule, no spitting on the floor?"

"Yes, good plan."
The boys like rules.  They like to have a plan.  They need to know what to expect and what we expect from them.   However, I could not possibly lay down enough rules to cover every strange, misguided or bizarre thing they could ever think to do.  I should have already known this from when Devyn and Maddy were little.

When the girls were little we had a cat.  We kept the cat box in the playroom downstairs.  For a period of time, when I cleaned the box, I noticed the clumps were unusually large.  A bizarre thought crossed my mind.

I yelled upstairs, "Maddy (really I knew, Devyn wouldn't think of doing this) have you been PEEING in the cat box?

"Only sometimes, when I am too busy to come upstairs." she replied casually

"Are you KIDDING me, Maddy?  You CAN'T do that!"

"Okay.  Now I know."

I would like to continue this blog post but I really should go.  I have rules to make.