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Okay, I'll admit it. Sometimes I talk to myself (in my head, so I'm only a little crazy, right?). I've convinced myself that this is perfectly acceptable; after all, now that I'm home with my kids, sometimes I have to talk to myself in order to have a grown up conversation.
Here's today's conversation.... it took place (in my head) this morning while I was doing the dishes and my kids were watching Sesame Street.
Dreamer Me: Thanks goodness, the kids are playing quietly so I can get the kitchen clean and enjoy a cup of coffee.
Devil's Advocate Me: They're too quiet.
Dreamer Me: No, they aren't.
Devil's Advocate Me: Yes, they are.
DM: Come on, Shannon, there is nothing they can get into trouble in the living room. It's perfectly baby proofed.
DAM: Oh, right. Just your husband's computer. And the art supplies. And the key basket. And the wireless booster. And...
DM: (smugly) Point taken! Which is why I blocked off my husband's computer, put the wireless booster and key basket on the top shelf of the desk, and the art supplies are on top of the entertainment center.
DAM: (stubbornly) I'm telling you, they are too quiet. You need to go check. Remember, Boyo likes to climb, and Girlie is an instigator. You can't just sit here and enjoy yourself.
DM: (indignantly) I'm not enjoying myself! I'm doing the dishes. (Sigh) But I suppose you're right. I'll go check.
My daughter (interrupting my thoughts): Momma! Can I paint the table? 'Cuz Brother all ready did!
DM and DAM: Oh, bloody everlasting hell.
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