The Rant of the Listening Dreamer

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Ah.........

The allure of a quiet evening.

Ah.........

NOT!

One kid, with the PP&P virus.

(Poop, Puke, and Pain).

The other kid, the one they call "the Captain", oblivious to the goings-on of the rest of the world, catching up on the Sprout Network's "Happy Birthday to every four year old in the entire universe" party.

That kid, trying to convince me that it is one o'clock in the morning, when it is in fact 8:00 P.M.

I told him, no, kiddo, it's 8 o'clock.

And of course, he failed at his debate response of "You're wrong, Mom! Cause this show that I'm watching only comes on at TWELVE ONE CENTRAL."

He has been cracking us up lately, this Captain of ours, with his 'TWELVE ONE CENTRAL'. He will ask us if he can watch something, and we will ask what time it comes on, and he will ALWAYS respond with the CENTRAL time zone as well as the Eastern one. It's quite funny, actutally.

So, I opted to NOT debate this Captain of ours, and rightly chose to tend to his PP&P sister. Which was the absolute correct choice to make, as one of the P's was flying EVERYWHERE. Ugh. Interestingly enough, our glorious Aunt Mermaidelicious declared that we Florida Pirates had fulfilled our yearly quota of P&P, and we have just barely finished the first QUARTER of the year, when more PP&P jumps out of the second quarter turnstile!

Regardless, I get my baby girl all settled down, cleaned up, freshly clothed, and tucked in, and she falls asleep as soon as she is calm.

I return to The Twilight Zone of our home, which basically is any zone in our home in which one can find the Captain. Because, THAT kid, he in himself constitutes a Twilight Zone. A Bizarro World. The Sixth Dimension. The Bermuda Triangle. Menudo. All of those weird places that you've heard about, you've wondered about, but you never really wanted to go there. And if you did want to go there (Menudo), you darn sure never told anybody about it!

Alas, I find the Captain in the kitchen, filling up a Tervis Tumbler to the rim with ice. Then he opts to pour Gatorade to the rim of the rim.

I casually mention, "Hey buddy, do you really think you are going to drink ALL of THAT right NOW? Because you have to go to bed in about two minutes."

Thus the ranting commences:

He slams his overfilled Tervis on the table, doesn't even turn my way, and unleashes the following, completely unedited RANT:

MAN! You made me PISSED OFF!

(Whoa! - Jake, do you even know what that means?)

Ya, I know what it means? Do YOU? Do YOU know what it means, because YOU are making me PISSED OFF!

YOU are making me FREAK out and REALLY sad.

I said, I AM PISSED OFF!

(Jake, honestly, do you know what you are saying, because I'm not quite sure what you are saying.)

Ya, well, I don't know what it means EITHER! But I am SERIOUSLY PISSED OFF!

And my brain!

He's an idiot!

He needs new tires!

My brain needs new tires to go to the listening dream egg bowl.

(HUH? What the heck is the listening dream egg bowl, Jake?)

It is where my brain will get the right answers.

Through the egg bowl, and then the pirate bowl,

blah, blah, blah,

WHAT-ever,

Stuff like that,

Yada Yada Yada

I'm done.



Like I said before, it was definitely a rant.

I can vouch for the contents of his food, but I may have to contact the Sprout Network to inquire as to the possibility that they are sending subliminal messages through their Universal Happy Birthday Party messages.

Whoa.

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