Conversations with the twins

My boys are at the age where they talk. A lot.

They never shut up.

Here’s one of our conversations.

Eli: Mom.

Me: Editing: What?

Eli: Um…so you come upstairs now.

Me: I’m working, Eli.

Eli: No. You’re done.

Me: Eli, I really need to get this done.

Eli: No.

Me: Yes.

Eli stomps away, up the steps, down the hallway, and up the second set of steps.

Down comes Brett.

Brett: Mom.

Me: Still editing: What, Brett?

Brett: You come up stairs now.

Me: Like I told Eli, I’m working. I need to get these edits done.

Brett: Well Eli is dead now.

Me: I take a deep breath. Try to keep a straight face and look at my oldest child: Your brother is dead now?

Brett: Yes.

Me: Why is Eli dead?

Brett: I said so. So he is dead.

Me: Where is he dead?

Brett: Upstairs. In my room. Go get rid of him.

Me: I save my work. Shut my computer and walk alllllll the way up to where my youngest child is supposedly lying dead: Eli why are you playing? You’re supposed to be dead. I’m supposed to get rid of your body.

Eli: I’m not dead.

Me: I see this.

Brett: See I told you mom would come up if I said you were dead.


This is why my work doesn’t get done. My children pretend to be dead. (Don’t go thinking that all I do is work all day and ignore the boys. No. Those two have nothing but my attention. But when I have deadlines…shits gotta get done!)


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