Please someone smack me up side my head the next time I mention having a sleepover at my house.
6 boys eat more food than the local grocery carries and stay up way to late.
I'm tired, I'm cranky and I'm hungry.
Actually I'm not cranky it just sounded good, but I am tired.
2 am isn't what it use to be, darn it I should have called Uncle Rich.
Upon further investigation it looks as though a bomb went off in the Lego room, a tornado hit the living room, a swarm of locusts went through the kitchen and pantry and a hurricane came through the front yard.
My departing words as I stumbled off to bed were- this is not happening again.
Of course it will,
we all know that
and when it does...
someone please smack me.
Amanda I think you're the only one who'll actually do it so I'm writing this to you.
From under the laundry pile I'm pleading...
Please send food.
PS don't feel too bad for me in about an hour I'll line up the whole gang, assign their duties and spend the next hour overseeing the mass clean up of the Span Ranch- something all kids learn quickly at my house, if you're here enough you have a job! They actually come back!!