Even when the kiddos are two floors away from me, locked in their rooms, they still have an uncanny way of getting my attention.
No matter how many times I yell, "I'm downstairs, if you want to talk to me you can come down here to do it," their shouts still have a way of finding themselves out of their mouths and through the atmosphere to where I am.
In other words, they keep shouting for me no matter what I do or how many toys I take away when they do so.
It's never ending.
So the other day, when my husband just happened to be home, therefore one more adult to aid in the response to their shouts, I tried to ignore them.
"Mom, he licked me!" was heard a few times, and also, "Get OFF of me."
I heard every mother's favorite phrase, "Get out of my room," more times than necessary because obviously the perpetrator wasn't leaving said room, thus causing even MORE yelling and screaming.
But I just continued doing whatever mundane task (laundry, because it's my life) I was doing and figured that if it got bad enough, their FATHER could deal with it. After all, he was upstairs in the general vicinity of them.
We all know how this goes.
The fighting, yelling and screaming escalates to a point where I can no longer take it, so up the stairs I go. I probably had my hands on my hips too!
After solving their dispute, I notice my dear husband lying on our bed flipping through the cable channels on the tv.
"Oh, are you just going to sit there like nothing is going on?" I asked him.
Do you want to know what he said?
"I was just letting them work it out."
It was mere moments before he started cracking up laughing and ducking from the pillow that I was hurling at his head.
DISCLAIMER: No men were actually harmed in the making of this post.