This ain't family life!

How can it go from zero to crazy in 60 minutes? Only an hour before, I had entered my version of domestic bliss. I'm talking 21st century Norman Rockwell painting come to life. Fast forward 60 minutes and my Rockwellian dream had morphed into that famous Munch painting. I'm talking crazy train crazy.

Dig if you will a picture, the entire Team in The Little Warrior's room. Wy Wy, fresh from a spanking, was a screaming dervish, whirling around a pile of shit and pool of urine. It wasn't his waste, it was the dog's, who was doing what she does best, dancing. I guess she thought Wy's commotion was a new game. She wasn't dancing long, my Lovely Bride, fresh from spanking the Little Warrior went ballistic over her defilement of Wy's room. Hearing his Mom's tirade against the dog, The Elder Boy bum rushed into the room, yelling, as he tried to save Ruby, who realized she was in trouble and started hopping around like a goat.

Me? Fuck me. I was standing there, amidst the mayhem, trying to figure out how the Team can go from Ozzie and Harriet cute to utter chaos in sixty fucking minutes.

Like many of my stories, this one begins with the Younger Boy sans pants. You see, Dear Reader, that was the first thing I noted when I entered the casa after a hard day of work. The second thing I noted was how nice they Boy(s) were playing together. It was sweet. Both of them were laying on the red rug in our den, with Ruby, playing Rescue Heroes. As if this wasn't enough, the coup de grâce was the fact that my Lovely Bride was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on our dinner.

My personal Leave it to Beaver episode lasted five minutes. That is when, a simple Rescue Heroes ownership issue set us on the road that led to Wy's room.

I could hear the Boy(s) fighting as I walked down the hall back into the den. When they saw me, they both started pleading their case, trying to make me the judge of who owned what. Believe me when I say, I'm the last person you want to judge anything to do with Rescue Heroes. I hear their names, and well I giggle like a school boy. My lack of judgement and inability to play Dad only fueled their fire. Thankfully we were saved by the bell. The dinner bell. As my Lovely Bride told us to wash up, the Elder Boy shoved his basket of Rescue Heroes back to his room, as his younger brother launched into a diatribe against his big brother.

Back at the table, My Lovely Bride's hard work was rewarded yet again by the The Little Warrior's irrational complaint about what was on his plate. You could serve the Younger Boy ice cream and cake for dinner and he would bitch and moan and ultimately have to be coerced to eat it.

Meanwhile as Wy pronounced everything on his plate 'yucky', The Elder Boy was channeling The Flamingo Kid. For those not versed in that glorious movie, the Elder Boy, like Jeffery, has the curious habit of murmuring while he eats. It is odd.

But at least he was eating. The Younger Boy, who you might recall wasn't wearing pants, was not. No. He was busy shoving bell pepper strips into his underwear.

Exasperated, my Lovely Bride told the Younger Boy to leave the table and go into the den to watch Caillou.

Happy to oblige, Wy pulled the bell peppers out of his underwear, threw them on his plate, and was gone. In any other home you probably would have heard a pin drop. Not ours, we had the Flamingo Kid at the table.

I should add, since my Lovely Bride later said she was in the Younger Boy's room earlier and there was no shit or piss, that at some point in the dinner show, the dog took her leave and went back and defiled Wy's room. We didn't know that then though.

It took the Elder Boy finishing his dinner, and going back into the den for us to learn of Ruby's act. That is when the two Boy(s) resumed their fight. With no parental supervision (we were still trying to eat our dinner) things quickly escalated. Yelling led to pushing, which led to fighting. In the end, The Little Warrior lived up to his billing and fought back against his bigger brother the only way he knows how - he bit him. On the back of the shoulder. Biting is bad. You only bite food, or so we say in our house. Thus, the Younger Boy was taken to his room where he received a spanking and is where we began the begin.

Until I BLOG again...... it sure ain't Ozzie and Harriet.