I wake up to the shrieks of children, arguing over who killed who in the Mario game on the wii. For some reason the kids never wake me up when they get up on Saturday mornings. If their father is home, he'll wake me up but they don't. I haven't decided yet, if it's because A. they are being sweet angels and want to let me sleep in; or B. wanting to get away with something. So I stumble out of bed, and down the stairs to find the two of them wrestling on the floor. Little Man (4) has Baby Gurl (9) pinned. she's flailing her arms and kicking her legs to no avail. He wears a triumphant smile. I decided it's B.
"Get off of your sister." I say, in not so much a correcting tone, but more of a 'not again' tone. He does and she pushes him further down on the floor, as if to get the last say. I'm in the kitchen now starting coffee and put their breakfast bowls in the sink. They are arguing again in the living room. I can count it down, 3. . . 2. . . 1. . .
"Mah-om, sissy won't..." little man begins as he chases her round the island in the kitchen, and then they are gone, stomping up the stairs and giggling. I fix my coffee, and the ceiling over me shakes.
"Stop jumping off my bed!" I call up.
"OK." They sing in unison.
And thus begins just another Saturday.