Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Five kids

This is the kind of shit I see on a regular night.  Mind you, I have been to Urgent Care already this summer for fireworks, this is what I stumble upon when I hear a BOOM!

We stopped at Treasure City (a souvenir store, with crap stuff), in Royalton, MN, on our way home this past weekend.   We do this every time we travel to our camper.  We told the kids that they had a $10.00 limit each.  I didn't set this up, Bob did.  I won't go in there because I hate the crap.  The kids get overstimulated (as do I) and someone always ends up crying.  So I stayed in the car with my daughter and the dogs, and sent Bob and the boys in alone.

My bad ALL around.

Bob bought them fireworks, a hatchet, and a blow-gun.

When we got home, he then gave them a lighter, and laid down for a rest.

 I swear to anything holy or otherwise, I have 5 kids.

There isn't a quote here, because I am speechless.


  1. WOW- i am also at a loss of words except "OH MY"!
    Although i am from a small town in Texas and the boys are raised with a pocket knife from the time they can walk and start gun lessons soon after.

  2. Hahaha. I feel your pain already, and mine are still toddlers. I swear, a lot of the time Josh is more work than all three of our babies.

    Hope no one gets hurt!

  3. You poor woman... my husband has learned that if he gets ANYTHING like that for our kids, HE has to deal with it, because I refuse. :) Hence, he's very careful about what he buys. Our friends and family, on the other hand......

  4. I may have wet my pants just a little while reading this.

  5. he shouldn't be allowed to make any decisions regarding the kids. Sorry to say that, but obviously his "appropriate" gage isn't working and almost everytime you allow him to make a decision about the kids it's a bad one. oh, and throw that crap away. they won't hate you for long...

  6. Picture a 1960s era church-lady housewife in Richfield. Grandpa lived with the family of 5 in a house slightly bigger than Cup n Cone. My husband tells how they used to lay trails of "black powder" around items in the driveway and then light them, watching it come close to the toys. Then as he got older, he and his brother would soak tennis balls in gasoline and light them on fire, hitting them with tennis racquets. Occasionally the balls would roll under a parked car. Sometimes they ran away, others, they would challenge each other to kick the ball out from underneath. They survived. Church lady didn't find out until they were grown. Boys will be boys, no matter how old they get.