Terrorist Plot

I’m working on a theory. I’ve decided that I’m pretty sure the terrorists are trying to bring down America through the use of our children. Specifically, babies and toddlers (but only because that’s as far as my research can go – I sincerely doubt parents of tweens and teens would disagree with me. Hell, my own parents might very well still agree).

Here is my case for this:

First, it seems as though the majority of children seem to choose 4:00-5:00 pm to begin the meltdown process. It’s a unified effort. Rarely does one sibling choose to completely lose it while the rest calmly look on in wonder. No – it’s a symphony of whines, screams and tantrums sometimes with a fight and/or an injury tossed in. At our house, we may as well light-up the path to time-out from now until bedtime. And it slowly (okay, quickly) drives us into madness. By bedtime our eyes are glazed over and our senses are dulled from drinking trying to keep our patience.

Second (at least in my house), I’m pretty sure my toddler is trying to make me feel like I am an idiot who is very likely losing her mind. A few examples (Keep in mind these are stories from TODAY, people!! Also, keep in mind that it is only 2:00 in the afternoon as I write this post!)

On the way to swimming lessons today, Paige and Blair were listening to some songs from Paige’s Kindermusik class. One song came on, and the lyrics were first in French, then switched to English (don’t be too impressed – she also knows almost all the words to Fun.’s “We Are Young”). The conversation went like this:

                     P: “Mommy, what are they saying?”
                    M: “It’s in French, honey. I can’t remember the other words.”
                     P: “It’s called English, Mommy.” (Said with a CLEAR disdain for my idiotic reply).
Oh, so sorry Paige. English. That’s right. I surely didn’t think you were talking about the other words in the song that I couldn’t remember. The ones that would help me remember the title of said song. You were talking about the other language. The one I speak everyday. The one I’ve been speaking for more than THREE DECADES. The one I taught you to speak!!! 
Phew – deep breaths.
Another example – again, from today. I asked Paige before her nap if she’d like to wear leggings under her dress, stating it seemed more comfortable. She looked at me like I was crazy and said “No, no leggings.” I went back in a few minutes later to check on her because she was screaming her head off. What was wrong, you ask? “Mommy, you forgot my leggings!! Sleeping in a dress isn’t comfortable!!” 
Wait, we had this conversation! You were specific! Weren’t you? Did I imagine that whole thing? Am I losing my mind? Did that even happen?
And I swear to God there was another story I wanted to put in here, and I can’t for the life of me think of it. I’ve replayed the morning and my head and I’ve got nothing.
Uh-huh? See? This is how they will creep in, people. We will be drunk tired and doubtful of what we used to think of as our own common sense.
Well-played, terrorists. But know that we are onto you. And we fully intend to come up with a plan to thwart you. Probably tonight. Or, maybe tomorrow. Hell, probably never – we’re just too tired. Well-played…

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