Crabby I'm not

Lanky informed me today that if he was a grown-up girl he would make sure he had a job. Because that would be a lot better than staying home and being crabby with his kids. Food for thought...

I did correct the dear boy that I'm not crabby today, in fact I'm baffled by why he would think such a thing. Then he told me he was thinking about yesterday.

Aaaahhhh yes, yesterday. Yesterday was the day I was stern (NOT crabby) and told the five feral children at Target not to touch anything. Nope, not even the squishy toys in the dollar section.

As I was running around after them, grabbing things (that they were CLEARLY not touching- because my little people always listen- because I'm that good of a mother, thank you) out of their hands and telling them in a whisper/hiss to "get over by the cart! Just stand by the cart!", we heard the shatter. The 'glass-is-breaking-and-you-didn't-bring-anything-glass-into-the-store-with-you-so-why-is-there-the-sound-of-glass-breaking' shatter.

And I turned to see the remains of a piggy bank at the feet of Specs. The sound of glass breaking was much more effective than all my instructions so all the little lambs turned instantly obedient and ran to the cart. Good job, kids. (The random two year old who had been wandering the dollar section was grabbed- snatched really- by her mother and rushed to safety away from me and the pack of wolves I travel with).

I took a minute to check out what the piggy bank looked like pre-Specs.

Pretty much like this. So I couldn't really blame Specs for picking it up and throwing it with mighty strength on the floor to see if it bounced. It didn't (see above story)

But, the moral of the story is: I'm not crabby. Just stern. Even though the stern-ness is getting me nowhere. So maybe I'll try crabby.