Just another typical day at my house
"*Captain Crunch" said my four year old selecting her breakfast cereal this morning! Next my teen son came down and not saying a word to me, picked out a can of *Campbell's soup. Went to the stove and popped the lid before pouring it into a pot and turning on the burner. He didn't say even one word to me when I complained about everyone having to have a different thing for breakfast. Not surprising though. He always gives me a *chilly reception most mornings. "Do you think I could take the Vamoose *charter bus to New York City? My friends and I want to go do something fun before school starts and it's only twenty five dollars each way?" "Good Morning would be nice for a *change, I said "Before you start asking for money, I mean?" I queried. He merely shrugged and reminded me that he would be sixteen at the end of the week. My daughter announced "Mommy, I think I *chap my lips! They hurt!" I corrected her "You mean chapped your lips?" "What ever!" she retorted. "Gee! Kids these days have such an attitude" I thought to myself! Even my baby daughter has learned to talk the talk and walk the walk. Well not such a baby any more I guess!
Suddenly there was a knock at the door and I realized with horror that the *Chimney sweep, who I had called had arrived exactly as scheduled. Right on time too! Rats! I had completely forgotten about him coming. I opened the door and said "Oh um, sorry for the mess. Come on in. The guy spoke with a thick foreign accent, "Hi, my name is *Cha-Cha and this is my son *Cha-Ching." I am used to weird sounding names having lived in this area for a few years now but these were some of the weirdest yet. I told him the "The fireplace is down stairs." They went down the steps and his son whispered to his dad while giving me a whithering and typically American Teenager look "Woo *cozy!" There was barely room to stand. My daughter had managed to dump, in only a few seconds, every toy box and was sitting in the middle of the floor, painting one of her DVDs with black paint. I just shook my head, stripped off my clothes and ran screaming into the street where I tripped over our new yellow book directory that had been placed strategically next to my mail box.. My husband never noticing that I had just had a mental break in front of the neighbors and the chimney sweep and his son appeared at the front door and hooted out at me "Sweety? What do you want to do with that one?" meaning the yellow book of course. I just stayed where I was hoping for a big truck to come along. I should be so lucky!
Does dark humor count?