Warning: God help us if Perry Mason starts defending juveniles.

So we've been out these past few days from school.  To date, there have been 12 (yes, 12) fights between Wesley and Regan, 2 fights between Wesley and the Collie, 1 nervous breakdown (me), 3 emergency runs to the store for Diet Dr. Pepper and so on.

In addition to all these situations, my children have apparently decided to become lawyers.  Below is a sampling of possible illegal activities I have conducted:

1.  It is illegal for me to forbid Wesley from activating a Netflix account downstairs in the den.  He contends that I am a Dictaphone (I think he meant dictator) and I "trample on his rights."

2.  Telling Regan she cannot be a

• gator wrestler (Gator Boys),
• a surfer (after watching "Soul Surfer),
• a veterinarian,
• an employee of the Houston SPCA (thanks Animal Planet),
• a race car driver (much appreciated Danica Patrick),
• a doctor for turtles (this was an offshoot of the time Darby brought a humongous turtle up to the deck to play with it),
• a dog trainer (thank you Petsmart),
• a builder of monkey homes (I dunno.  From Tarzan, maybe?),
• a worm breeder (I don't who put that idea in her head),
• and a school teacher

violates her dreams. 

She wants to do this by the time she is sixteen years old.  She has just a mere 6 years to go.

In my defense, I told her she can do anything she puts her mind to bu she still has to pass fourth grade so she'd better do her math homework. 

3.  When I handed Wesley his folded clothes, I committed a deadly assault.  He wanted to call the police to have me arrested but I told him they were closed until 9:00 a.m.  Fortunately, he forgot about his threats since I am still a free person.

4.   The chore of feeding the dogs once a day is a clear case of blackmail.  I don't know how but Wesley insists that I am an evil blackmailer.

5. When I made an emergency Diet Dr. Pepper run last night, Regan said I abandoned her.  Never mind that Dave was at home with her--I still have temerity to leave and come back.

6.  Lastly, when I told both Wes and Ray at separate times that I did not want to bake cookies, I was called a dictionary by Ray.  After I stopped laughing, Regan stomped her feet, made a "UUUHHHH" noise and ran outside.  Wesley just started his usual diatribe aka, "I am starving to death and all we have to eat is garbage..." yada, yada, yada.  Oh, and I am starving my children by making them eat nutritious food.



Dear Readers, I implore you to write your local legislature to clarify some murky issues in laws in your respective state and/or country.  Don't wait until Perry Mason names you in a civil lawsuit on behalf of your kids.