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Authors: Tara Sivec
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noise that is coming out of them.
They begin crying even harder because they think Jim is yelling at them, which in
turn produces snot, dry heaves, and honest to God foot stomping.
“No, no, no! Please stop crying!” Carter pleads with them, getting down on his knees
so he is eye level with them.
“I WANT MY MOMMY!” Veronica shouts.
And thus begins a half hour chant of “I WANT MY MOMMY” from five little girls.
Instead of calling the wives and admitting to them that we have no idea how to control
the situation, Carter calls his own mother. She tells him to bribe them with candy.
Exactly six seconds after he hangs up the phone, each girl has a sucker in her hand
and a smile on her face as they walk back to the toy room to play “Headless Barbie
Princess Parade”.
The peace and quiet lasts exactly fifteen minutes.
I manage to get Billy changed with only a little bit of puke coming up my throat but
then I actually throw up in the kitchen sink when I look down and realize I have some
poop on my finger. Carter takes over at that point and gives Billy a bottle and rocks
him to sleep. Gavin is sitting next to Carter on the couch playing his Nintendo DS
when all of a sudden, more blood curdling screams start coming from the toy room.
“You have got to be kidding me with this shit!” Jim complains.
We start to get up to see what the problem is now when all five girls shuffle out
into the living room in a giant clump. Upon closer inspection, once we are able to
get them to finally stop screaming and ask them why they are walking around with their
heads all touching in the middle and refusing to separate, we find out that unsupervised
suckers with little girls is a no-no.
“Oh sweet Mary. What happened?” Jim asks them.
They all start talking at once, each one with a different version of the story and
who is to blame. One says it had something to do with a giraffe and a cell phone,
another says it was because there were birds flying around and the princess fell out
of her tower, and yet another says the crayons were talking and told her to do it.
I am beginning to wonder if the girls are dropping acid in the toy room instead of
playing nicely while enjoying suckers.
I guess the giraffe on the phone talking to the birds who buzz Cinderella’s tower
while the red crayon stabs people is the reason there are currently five suckers stuck
in five long piles of hair which in turn are all stuck together in one big ball of
hairy stickiness. They look like a set of sextuplets joined at the head. It’s funny
for a few minutes until we realize the only way to get the suckers out is to cut their
hair. And there is no way you can cut a little girl’s hair without their mother noticing.
The three of us stand there staring at the girls in horror, wondering what to do.
“Claire is going to kill me. She’s been growing Sophia’s hair out since she was born.
She only gets trims,” Carter says nervously as he walks up behind us with Billy still
asleep on his shoulder. “Maybe I should call my mom again.”
“NO! We are not calling your mother. We are grown ass men and we can figure out
how to fix this shit!” Jim scolds.
“FIX SHIT!” Molly yells.
“FIX SHIT, FIX SHIT, FIX SHIT!” all five girls chant.
“We’re out of our depth, man. We’ll never make it out of this alive,” I yell to Jim
over the girls chanting.
“We just need a plan. Where is the closest wig store?” Jim asks.
“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard!” Carter argues.
I look at Billy in envy as he sleeps soundly on Carter’s shoulder through the chaos.
“Do you have a better idea, genius?” Jim asks him.
The three of us stare at each other blankly, not one single idea coming to mind that
will ensure our wives don’t gouge out our eyes with spoons.
“Get me some scissors, a razor blade, a jar of peanut butter and some safety
They begin crying even harder because they think Jim is yelling at them, which in
turn produces snot, dry heaves, and honest to God foot stomping.
“No, no, no! Please stop crying!” Carter pleads with them, getting down on his knees
so he is eye level with them.
“I WANT MY MOMMY!” Veronica shouts.
And thus begins a half hour chant of “I WANT MY MOMMY” from five little girls.
Instead of calling the wives and admitting to them that we have no idea how to control
the situation, Carter calls his own mother. She tells him to bribe them with candy.
Exactly six seconds after he hangs up the phone, each girl has a sucker in her hand
and a smile on her face as they walk back to the toy room to play “Headless Barbie
Princess Parade”.
The peace and quiet lasts exactly fifteen minutes.
I manage to get Billy changed with only a little bit of puke coming up my throat but
then I actually throw up in the kitchen sink when I look down and realize I have some
poop on my finger. Carter takes over at that point and gives Billy a bottle and rocks
him to sleep. Gavin is sitting next to Carter on the couch playing his Nintendo DS
when all of a sudden, more blood curdling screams start coming from the toy room.
“You have got to be kidding me with this shit!” Jim complains.
We start to get up to see what the problem is now when all five girls shuffle out
into the living room in a giant clump. Upon closer inspection, once we are able to
get them to finally stop screaming and ask them why they are walking around with their
heads all touching in the middle and refusing to separate, we find out that unsupervised
suckers with little girls is a no-no.
“Oh sweet Mary. What happened?” Jim asks them.
They all start talking at once, each one with a different version of the story and
who is to blame. One says it had something to do with a giraffe and a cell phone,
another says it was because there were birds flying around and the princess fell out
of her tower, and yet another says the crayons were talking and told her to do it.
I am beginning to wonder if the girls are dropping acid in the toy room instead of
playing nicely while enjoying suckers.
I guess the giraffe on the phone talking to the birds who buzz Cinderella’s tower
while the red crayon stabs people is the reason there are currently five suckers stuck
in five long piles of hair which in turn are all stuck together in one big ball of
hairy stickiness. They look like a set of sextuplets joined at the head. It’s funny
for a few minutes until we realize the only way to get the suckers out is to cut their
hair. And there is no way you can cut a little girl’s hair without their mother noticing.
The three of us stand there staring at the girls in horror, wondering what to do.
“Claire is going to kill me. She’s been growing Sophia’s hair out since she was born.
She only gets trims,” Carter says nervously as he walks up behind us with Billy still
asleep on his shoulder. “Maybe I should call my mom again.”
“NO! We are not calling your mother. We are grown ass men and we can figure out
how to fix this shit!” Jim scolds.
“FIX SHIT!” Molly yells.
“FIX SHIT, FIX SHIT, FIX SHIT!” all five girls chant.
“We’re out of our depth, man. We’ll never make it out of this alive,” I yell to Jim
over the girls chanting.
“We just need a plan. Where is the closest wig store?” Jim asks.
“That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard!” Carter argues.
I look at Billy in envy as he sleeps soundly on Carter’s shoulder through the chaos.
“Do you have a better idea, genius?” Jim asks him.
The three of us stare at each other blankly, not one single idea coming to mind that
will ensure our wives don’t gouge out our eyes with spoons.
“Get me some scissors, a razor blade, a jar of peanut butter and some safety
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