I woke up at 6 a.m. Ok. Let me rephrase that. I was jolted out of my bed at 6 a.m. Brooklyn was sprawled out in her floor yelling, "MoMMaY! I got myself!!" Which means Brighton didn't attack her.. she was injured by something else. I picked her up off the floor and told her she'd just fallen out of bed. I tried to put her back IN her bed but Brighton was sprawled out like a rug in her spot. (So... I don't think Brooklyn "fell" out of the bed. I think somebody named Daddy put Brighton in Brooklyn's bed because he was crying in his crib and Brighton kicked Brooklyn out.I only think this because Brighton kicks me out of my bed ALL the TIME). I "ugh"ed for a bit, picked up my log of a baby and plopped him in his crib and plopped Brooklyn in her bed. And like a musical symphony being cued... "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHhh" from BOTH children. I contemplated beating my head against the post of the bunk bed, then beating Starling's head against the bunk bed, but finally gritted my VERY exhausted teeth and picked Brighton up, threw him back in Brooklyn's bed, and joined them. When they both fell asleep, I put Brighton in MY bed so he could kick Starling instead of Brooklyn and I took a LONG, LuXUrious shower taking time to shave my entire body before I got out.
Then, awake and not able to go to sleep, I curled up next to Starling and did what I do best. Talk. He tried to ignore me, but lets face it... I'm hard to ignore. So he finally gave up and joined me in conversation. Then he did something uncouth and I had to resort to punishment. I told him to stay put while I thought of something awful to do to him, but of course he didn't. He took off running even though he knows running results in greater torture. I chased him in circles through the house until I was giggling too hard to breathe. (You should see Starling run for his life high stepping in his underwear trying to block my path with high chairs and couches). He's terrified of me. With good reason. He finally got around me and locked himself in the bathroom.
No sweat. Though patient in nearly ZERO aspects of my life, one tiny little spot of my life is OVERFLOWING with patience. My little REVENGE spot. I piddled in the kitchen until Starling got brave enough to come out of the bathroom. I acted nonchalant as he eyed me wearily. He sat down on the couch in front of the laptop. He was still watching me pretty intensely. So I wandered into the laundry room. Starling was looking behind him to make sure I wasn't going to sneak up on him. I opened the dryer and banged some things around until Starling got comfy. He could hear me in the laundry room so he never anticipated the arm around his neck a second later. "AHH!!" He's pretty strong for a dude, and lets face it... I only have the element of surprise working for me. He grabbed both my arms to keep me from doing SOMETHING... he was still clueless as to my wicked intentions. Then he saw the syringe. (Well... medicine dropper... but syringe sounds much more menacing). With both my arms fully stretched out and no way to bend them to bring the foul liquid to his mouth... (apple vinegar)... I had only one choice. I brought my hands together quickly squirting a little on my finger. Using Starling's thoughts against him, knowing he was only focused on keeping the dropper away from his mouth, I yanked my hand (the one NOT holding the medicine dropper) free and SHOVED my vinegar finger STRAIGHT into Starling's giggling mouth. "UGH!!" He shouted yanking the dropper from my hand and turning on me.
"I'm going to spray this mess all in your hair!" he told me when he had me firmly tackled. (He had to threaten that because he can NEVER get to my mouth. EVER. I have lips of steal and unlike him I don't HAVE to giggle!) When my mouth was safe from his reach I said, "Better not. I just washed my hair. You know what will happen if you do." He thought better of it. He wiped some on my face and ran. We agreed we were even.
But he better watch his back. We're never TRULY even until I've one up-ed him.
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