Today, I took Brandon and Ricky to Hurricane Harbor. They enjoyed the rides while I sat under the shade in my tankini and caught up on reading my People magazines. (I was behind one weeks issue.)
After three hours of doing my motherly duty, we came home were they enjoyed the pleasure of our pool. I was out to supervise so they played well without complaints.
Mom goes in the house to shower and somehow something changed in ten minutes.
Ricky: Mom, Brandon won't let me ride his scooter. I can't ride Allan's cause I'm too big for it.
Mom: (sigh) Uhhhhh, Really? (pause) Is Brandon riding it?
Ricky: Yes!
OMG!!!! Last time I checked, I only had one two year old. And I'm not refereeing! Especially, when Ricky was the former owner of one and decide to take it apart to rebuild it and it didn't work out. Does it ever stop?!
I'll have to reimplement an old rule they are familiar with from their toddler days: If you taddle tell, and I don't see blood or broken bones, you lose privileges.
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