The other night they pulled a complete meltdown in the kitchen after I brought them inside for their bath. Really, if you've never heard two nearly four-year old boys screaming at the top of their lungs while they kick and pound the floor, you should try it. It puts things into perspective. Like that enormous glass of wine on the counter. That enormous glass of wine can look pretty small in comparison. But I digress.
They're kicking and screaming and (fake) crying about not wanting to take a bath and I'm doing my best I'm-ignoring-your-antics-just-like-they-say-to-do-in-the-parenting-books impersonation. And then they just look at each and start laughing HYSTERICALLY. As if to say, you seriously look like a moron, carrying on the way you are. And then they go back to screaming and kicking and flailing again, as if remembering what their original mission was. And then back to laughing. And then to screaming. And I have to somehow keep a straight face.
I had to leave the room finally.
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