Uh huh. Those were the words my wife said as she walked out the door tonight to go teach her cake decorating class. She had just suggested that we get some light sticks out so the kids could run around in the darkening back yard. It sounded good at the time, but quickly thereafter ensued the following series of events:
-- I select three light sticks, of equal color to avoid fighting over who gets what color.
-- One child begins to throw a tantrum because the color is not likable.
-- Another child begins to throw a tantrum because two light sticks are more desirable.
-- The third child begins to throw a tantrum because the computer is a better way to keep entertained.
-- All three kids refuse to play outside because Dad wasn't going out there with them.
-- Some yelling ensues.
-- Some calming follows.
-- Some apologies from the kids occur (really, this was simply a miracle -- my kids don't apologize meaningfully, and they're never truly sorry).
-- Dad has to go outside with the kids.
-- It gets dark and the kids get bored.
-- Dad goes inside to do the dishes, with the kids on his heels.
-- Kids throw tantrums that Dad isn't playing with them, but willfully fail to comprehend that helping Dad do the dishes will help make him more available to play.
-- Kids start chasing each other around the house with the lights out, with the youngest crying every two minutes because he's scared.
-- Dad has to intervene every two minutes.
Needless to say, they weren't out of my hair. It wasn't a calm night. And I'm still trying to relax from the elevated stress. Ugh. I think she owes me a foot rub or something ...