The fight

Yesterday we all gathered at Sister #3’s house in honor of Mother’s Day. For those you not in Minnesota, yesterday (and most of today) was really fucking hot. Like 90+ degrees hot.

For most of the day we hung outside in the hot breeze with the kidlings running around like savages. Once the sun started to go down we decided to go inside and play Uno Attack, or new favorite game on earth.

Tony popped a movie in the downstairs DVD player for the sweaty, bratty kids and we retired to the diningroom table to laugh like goons, call each other bitches and whores, and yell “hit ’til it spits” at each other.

After about 20 minutes Max and Cade came upstairs. Cade was howling and Max’s words were tripping over themselves trying to get out of his mouth.

“What happened,” Sister #3 asked Cade. “Max hit me.”
“He keeps calling me a baby,” Max said.

Sister #2 launched into some lecture about not hitting and using your words and blah, blah, blah.

Sister #3 turned back to Cade who was still howling. “Why are you calling Max a baby?”
“Because he is!” Cade shouted.

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