I brought it on myself. There is no one to blame but me.
I’m in the bathroom with the girls at bedtime: brushing teeth, braiding hair, believing that they will listen to me about the value of a full night’s sleep.
Good luck with that.
Isabella (she’s 9): Daddy, I have crusty stuff under my eye.
Me: Everybody gets that. Because, your eyes are constantly leaking tears even when you don’t think they are. And, there’s stuff in tears that make the crusty stuff.
Julianna (11): Maybe you have a fection.
Me: IN-fection, and no she doesn’t.
Isabella and I both look deeply into the mirror at our eyes.
And, then, quite on purpose, just to see if my monkeys are as trained as I think…
Me: Man, I am a good-looking man!
And then, my monkeys perform…
Girls, simultaneously: No you’re not.
Girls: Double Jinx!
Girls: Rainbow Jinx!
Girls: Double Rainbow Jinx!
Iz: You owe me a soda.
J: No, You owe me a soda, because you weren’t looking at me when you called the Double Rainbow Jinx.
Iz: Yeah, but you weren’t looking at me when I said you owed me a soda.
Me: Who came up with the rules? Back in my day, a Jinx was a Jinx.
Girls: Daaad! Stop!
They are so well-trained.
There’s quite a bit of back and forth regarding who owes whom a soda. I quietly slip out of the bathroom.
Now, I’ve never heard of a Rainbow Jinx. Apparently, if you call Jinx under a roof, it has to be of the Rainbow persuasion. The “you owe me a soda” thing is completely out of left field, because the girls don’t drink soda.
The fight roars for 4 or 5 minutes. Feelings are hurt. Tears are shed. Crusty stuff forms.
Meanwhile, I head to the kitchen, and crack open a Coke.