A bottle of sunscreen and a live bat
“mumblemumblemumble . . . Stop it!”
“mumblemumblemumble . . . Ow!”
“Mo-om! Lillie hit me!”
“No I didn’t!”
“Did too!”
“It was an accident!”
“No it wasn’t!”
“And I didn’t do it!”
Ahhhh . . . another day in parental paradise. they’ve been at each other’s throats since waking about three hours ago. Happily, no blood’s been drawn yet. Still, there are quite a few hours until they are banished to bed for the night, so a good bloodletting is a distinct possibility.
Every day is a nature special: Survival of the Sneakiest. Without supervision, I am sure one or the other would have been pushed out of the nest, strangled or stabbed or done in somehow. Maybe it is my only-child bias showing itself, but I do not understand how so many siblings survive to adulthood. And no, I have no idea why the wife was asking for sunscreen and a live bat. I may have misheard her. I am getting older, after all.
