Game on!

Okay, let me preface this by saying... My husband is an amazing guy. He is a great dad, he's fun at parties, and he knows without me having to say it when I've had just about enough time with our three beautiful progeny, and then he always has a plan for something fun to do with them to give Mommy a break. He does laundry, grocery shops with all three kids in tow, and is the official 'pool float' for the kids in the summertime. He makes me laugh on a daily basis, and after 18 years together, we definitely speak each other's language (usually ;).

But then, there are days like today, where I could just strangle him.

Why?! Why? Why, Philip Linson (using my stern voice), did you have to teach our children how to play the 'Punch Buggy' game? Do they REALLY need another reason to hit one another? Especially in the van? Even in fun? Because we ALL know how that's going to end. Not well. They just really don't need any more ammo in their sibling warfare.

And can I just mention that he did it RIGHT before we were getting back in the van after having a nice lunch together (the kids are out of school today.) I took Libby to the bathroom after lunch, and he took the older two back out to the van to get them loaded up.

When I came out, Davis socked his unsuspecting mom in the arm, and said, "Green punch buggy!" Which of course cracked them all up. I just glared at my darling husband, who by the way, gets to get back in his OWN car, and go back to his job for the rest of the afternoon.

Way to go, honey. ;)