Thursday or Why I Shouldn't Be a Parent

There's something about Thursdays. My brain isn't quite right Thursdays. Thursday tend to be the day that drag out to no end; when the kids are extra-off-the-wall; when I just want to curl up in bed with a good book and ignore the world. 

There was no ignoring the world this past Thursday ... not with ten kids in the house. Yes, ten. My five, ages 14, 13, 11, 7, and 5. Then a few extra kids, ages 5, 5, 3 (or is he 4 now?), almost-2 and almost-2.

At one point two five year old girls, who were formerly contentedly playing outside, tore through the house with BIG NEWS. They had caught a cricket. They needed to know what type of habitat it needed and what it ate. After some research, they set up a home for him outside in a bucket, so they could "observe him throughout the day to learn more about him," in their own words. They continued playing, but checked up on Crickie and gave me regular updates. Until tragedy struck...

Alia: Mama! Help! There's a bee near the bucket with the cricket in it.
Mama: Then scare it away.
Alia: How do we do that?
Mama: Say "boo!"
Alia: Really?
Mama: Yes. Say "Boo, bee!"

Teenager sitting a few feet away: *snicker*

There was a slight pause and a simultaneous "Mama/Amanda, we can't say that!" 

And so I valiantly went outside to conquer the dreaded bee, which by that time had moved on to bigger and better things. 

That's Thursday, for you. Perhaps I shouldn't be allowed to be a parent - or to entertain other people's children - on Thursdays. Then again, if it wasn't for Thursdays, my kids wouldn't have nearly such an awesome sense of humor.