the’s like crack to them.


Image So recently my husband and I have noticed our boys are becoming addicted to apple juice, of all things. Now usually I’m pretty anal about their intake of ‘crap’ but they seem to have this way of getting you to give them things without you even noticing, say.. while on the phone for instance. (The Ferals are experts at taking advantage of a distracted Mama) Anyway.. I was asked quite politely one day by Mr 3 for yet another glass of juice ‘No honey, you may not have anymore juice’ I said, expecting him to just accept this and walk on. (Although if someone said to me ‘No you may not have another alcoholic beverage on this warmest of Friday afternoon’s, im certain my reaction would be the same as his) He did not just walk on by. He looked me square in the eye, clenched his midget fists,  turned bright red, and threw himself down, arms flailing, legs kicking and spit flying. ‘HELLLLLLLP MEEEEEEEE, HEEEELLLLLLPPP MEEEEEE MAMAAAAAAA!!! OHHHH WHY WONT YOU HEEELLLP MEEEEE!’ ( bear in mind he was asking for juice, not for me to save him from an attacking animal) He was shrieking and writhing on the floor of our kitchen for a good 5 minutes while I stood there doing everything I could not to laugh, and then suddenly he stopped and stood up, wiping his snot covered face on the legs of my jeans, (nice son, real nice) sucking back a line of drool,  and said once again ‘ Please Mama may I have some juice?’ ‘ child you may not have some juice, but lovely manners, thankyou.’ Once again, his sweet little face turned an alarming shade of red and he screamed at the top of his lungs for his brother to join him ( i’m guessing he were assuming safety in numbers or perhaps that many tiny fists of fury make for more juice..i don’t know) so Mr 2 comes charging into the kitchen like a pissed off garden gnome, apparently ready to fight me, and Mr 3 prattles of a stream of what I could only assume was a run down of what I was not allowing them to do. Now I had two of them screeching like banshees and writhing on the floor. God knows what my neighbours thought ( sometimes im afraid to show my face) so I let it carry on for a while, enjoying their theatrical display, and then they turned on each other! The youngest (who is the heavier of the two) had the oldest by the hair and was attempting to smash his brothers face into the kitchen cupboard. The eldest was kicking and flailing and screeching while trying to bite his brothers feet. I saw toys being used as weapons, alphabet fridge magnets were flying every where, teatowels were ripped down and shoved in tiny faces, the bottom shelf of the pantry was completely taken out, a bundle of white hot preschooler hormones was whirling through the kitchen and all I could do was stand there smirking. Well… i’m sure im not the only one who secretly enjoys it when the tables turn am I? Im not the type to smack my kids ever, but sometimes they drive me nuts, and yes I do get a little smug satification out of watching a miniature riot go wrong 🙂 so, being a horrible mother, I let this fight continue, as they were giving as good as the got, and eventually it ended, they were crying, exhausted and needed a cuddle from their mama after some time out. I scooped em up, took each to their room, let them cool down, snuck into my room and pi***d myself laughing for a good 3 minutes, pulled myself together and set them free. Mr 3 apolOgised to me for sicking his brother onto me, Mr 2 apologised to his brother for beating him with a letter P fridge magnet, they both cleaned up their mess in the kitchen, held hands, smiled sweetly and said ‘ Please Mama, can we have some juice now??’



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