I hope this is the strangest post I ever write. It’s 2:51am, there are a couple of not-even-remotely-tired children in my living room, I’m awake in my office with our dog because she’s geeked out on Dorito powder and little girl giggles, and there’s a weird taste in my mouth from falling into a sleep-coma while eating a grape Jolly Rancher.
The whole scene from The Shining playing out in my house right now is due to a “school project.” Yes, I fell for it. I let my child convince me (mostly through her wide, innocent eyes and cute smile) that she needed to have just a few friends spend the night so they could destroy my entire life work on their group project. And I fell for it.
The ten minutes of school work this group actually performed in the space of the last eighteen hours actually did look great. But other than six preteen girls making loud noises while my child did the work (other than the random girls who would pop in occasionally to bring her more Mountain Dew or wipe sweat off her face like she was performing brain surgery in a mechanic’s shop instead of standing in an air-conditioned master bathroom larger than my first apartment), I didn’t see a lot of GROUP in this GROUP PROJECT.
But here was the end result of this massive joint effort of emerging estrogen:
Here it is when I actually hold still:
I’m a good person. And I’m eating one of the children for breakfast. I’ve already made that announcement, telling them trial-by-fire auditions to see who gets to live will take place promptly at six. Welcome to insomnia, babies.
Lorca Damon 
Thank you ffor this
You really are smashing looking as a zombie,
no ones brains are safe
Thanks! But ewwwww, brains? No one said anything about brains! I didn’t sign up for brains! Gummy bears? How long can the undead live on gummy bears?
And you looked so nice at church today!!!
LOL! I’m fully capable of hiding my zombiehood when amongst my future lunch mates.
OMG, I love this. I remember those days, and not so much from my children, but my own childhood. We dressed my mom up as a cheap 80s hooker once for fun. And it was really fun. I wish I still had those pictures…the ones my mother stole from my room and burned along with the entire make-up kit and at least three pairs of fishnet hose. Gawd, those were the good old days. 🙂
I only agreed to do it because they were going to use one of the friends. I just stepped in because I could see one of them getting blinded by misapplied eyeshadow.
That’s pretty damn good. I bet they pay good money in Hollywood for that skill.
Oh, and also, this post, based on the title alone, could have been written by Mike Tyson.
Probably so, but if all of this academic acrobatics does not result in one of my offspring being a doctor–and I mean, the real kind, not a bug researcher or something–I will sue my own children.
Our children learn early that we will move heaven and earth for anything that can remotely be called “for school” . 500 mile trips so see “mounds” that some Indians might have built? Sure. A midnight trip to Walmart for lime green poster board. No problem. Get suspicious all you want….betcha fall for it next time too 🙂