It's Raining Something (& It's Not Men)

I've posted before about the fact that my kids are weird. That's really nothing new. They often invent crazy games to play when I'm ignoring them busy that I usually only hear in the background. It's one of the perks of having so many children so close in age. It's like Lord of the Flies a cute little preschool.


Anyway, today was one of their inventive days. PJ and Patrick were playing a video game in the living room, so I went to my bedroom to read. Unfortunately, I found Lucy and Sophie in there with Sean and Charlotte laughing hysterically at the "baby channel". (This is some horrible channel on DirectTV that is like watching a Baby Einstein movie 24/7.) The big kids think it's hysterical to watch and the little ones actually like it. Needless to say, I wasn't going to be able to read in my own room. So, I climbed into Sean's bottom bunk to read in peace.


I know. I read that last sentence, too. I should know better than to think I'm going to get a moment's peace in this loony bin. As I was quietly laying on the bottom bunk, I saw Lucy tiptoe past me and climb up the ladder. Sophie followed softly behind with an armload of dirty laundry. At this point, it was still quiet, so I just shrugged them off. I could hear them giggling above me, but I learned from my dad at a young age how to become so engrossed in a book that you legitimately cannot hear what's going on around you. It's a blessing and a curse. All I eventually heard was, "Quick, quick, let's get down and then press the button!" This was followed my mad scrambling down the bunk bed ladder.


And that's when it began to rain dirty laundry.


Based on the laughter, there is nothing - I mean nothing - funnier than dirty laundry rain. Lucy and Sophie had been fastidiously laying articles of clothes over each fan blade from the top bunk of the bed. They'd lay a bathrobe over a fan blade and then push it around and lay some underwear over the next one. After the fan was covered, they raced down the ladder to turn the fan on and dance under the flying clothes. This is what passes for entertainment when they're left to their own devices. 

Watching them laugh hysterically while scooping up dirty laundry for another round really was quite funny. If only there were some way to make this game work in my favor. Some kind of new-fangled laundry sorting game? I'll have to spend some time working on that idea. In the mean time, I'm just going to brace myself for the next storm.

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