Which One Is Impaired?

On Wednesday night, bedtime was happening way too slowly and way too late. After 15 reminders for pajamas, 30 reminders for teeth brushing and 100 reminders to please get down on your knees for family prayers, my patience was running a little thin. To make matters worse, when I stood up from family prayers, my nose completely slammed shut. Completely. I sounded like a pervert making prank phone calls with all my heavy breathing.

Finally, Chase gets in bed, followed by 15 requests for a drink, 30 requests for a trip to the potty, 100 requests for a stuffed animal and the nightly "Hey, Mom, what fun thing do we have planned for tomorrow?"

I marched back into Chase's room and said,

"Seriously, Chase. No more. I'm done."


"What?"


"I'm done."


"What?"


"I'M FINISHED!!"


"Oooooohhhhhh........What does that mean?"


Seriously, kid. Aren't hearing aids supposed to be standard issue? Were we standing in the wrong line the day they were handed out, cause I don't remember getting ours.


"I'm finished. I'm tired. I'm crabby. I'm done. Goodnight!"


Chase said, so sweetly, honestly and seriously,

"Well, at least I can be nice at bedtime."

Great, kiddo. You be nice. I am going to take my stuffed nose and my crabby attitude and go plunk myself in front of the TV. I'm done.

I walk into the kitchen and Jeff is literally holding his side from laughter. He's in the kitchen wetting his pants, at something. Are you serious? You really want to chance laughing at the raving lunatic? Not a smart move, man! So, I asked this brave fellow what on earth he is finding so funny. Apparently, this is how my conversation with Chase had sounded:

"Seriously, Chade, doh bore. I'b dud."

"What?"

"I'b dud."

"What?"

"I'B FIDISHED!"

"Ooooooohhhhhh.....What does that mean?"

"I'b fidished. I'b tired. I'b crubby. I'b dud. Goodtight."

Well, looky there. All of a sudden, I'm not so crabby anymore. Not to mention, relieved that Chase is neither hearing impaired or brain damaged.