It was a typical afternoon in the Orange Rhino household. The three oldest boys were worn out from the days classes and activities and were bouncing off the walls each other. It was pouring rain and cold out so no chance of them running off their energy vis a vis splashing in the puddles. Nope. They were (I was?!) stranded inside with a screaming 15 month old whose teeth just seem to show no mercy.
Full of energy and exhaustion all at once, and lacking patience at the same time, not one of the three eldest had any intention of behaving that afternoon. Instead they opted to do their usual stunts: hit each other, pull shirts, throw toys at each other, whine for another snack, whine about each other, whine that daddy wasn’t home. It was pouring outside and pouring chaos inside.
Did I mention I had a headache from being up the night before playing the ever popular “how many beds can I fall asleep in” as I chased nightmares away?
It wasn’t a glorious day outside and I certainly didn’t feel glorious inside.
And then it started. The second wind that is.
All of a sudden my three eldest were running around the house screaming at the top of their lungs. Or shall I say screeching? They were tired of beating up each other and complaining and decided to move ahead to pure hyperactive play.
Oh. My. God.
The yelling. The movement. The insanity.
If I heard one more shrill voice wiz past me as I now tried to cook dinner I was going to either scream or throw the pot of pasta viciously at the sink. It was THAT bad. And my attempts (albeit truly weak attempts) to halt the behavior were completely ignored.
“STOP!” I snapped.
Oh crap, I’m gonna blow. Think quick, Orange Rhino, think quick!
“STOP! It’s hammer time!” I bellowed out in a trying to be funny and cool and I don’t know what voice.
My boys froze.
“What?” my boys asked. Obviously (duh…) they didn’t get the reference that stumbled off of my tongue as if it were 1980’s and were totally confused.
“STOP! It’s hammer time!” I said with a huge smile on my face.
Yeah, I got this in the bag, I smugly thought to myself. We’ll start a dance party. All will be well in the world. I could never stand MC Hammer or his crazy pants, but at this moment, I was totally gratefully for his annoying song. It was an awesome recovery. I practically patted myself on the back.
And then I realized I had 4 boys. Not 4 girls.
“What? Hammer time?” #2 asked.
“Yeah, hamma time!” Said #3.
“GO GET YOUR HAMMERS BOYS!” shouted #1.
And no joke, they all ran, got their hammers and resumed running around. But this time, with hammers in hand and hammering anything in site. I thought it was loud before? That was nothing.
Did I not yell?
Did I end up laughing?
Photo courtesy ehow
But did my head feel like the balloon above?
So as I alluded to in the title of this post, parents, do NOT try this at home. Try any other form of not yelling, perhaps one of these 50 alternatives, just please don’t burst out singing “STOP! It’s Hammer Time.”
Perhaps instead, may I suggest, ”2 LEGIT, 2 LEGIT 2 QUIT!”
Want to take a flashback to the 1990’s? Here’s the video clip for you.
Here’s another post with a tribute to a song I grew up with. This post is from the early early days of this challenge. Day 1, TAKE 7 to be exact.
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