The New Neighbors are Terrified…

9:36:00 PM

We went to the new house today to take some measurements. Doors, windows, rooms in general.  We like to be the uber-organized types when we move.  We want to know where everything is going before we get there.  That and the fact that we can’t move for another two weeks or so, and THAT is really bothering us.  We’d really like to get it all over with already…

Anyhow.  Being that it is a beautiful Saturday, many of the neighbors were outside.  (I will have to say this seems like a pretty friendly neighborhood – hopefully they’ll understand that we are the “anti social” type typically….LOL).  We pulled up in our neatly and newly wrapped truck - (it’s a gorgeous shade of teal if I do say so myself – with that ever so perfect hint of Lime Green…) and out piled all five kids.

We are pretty used to causing a scene when we go places, so it didn’t phase me that the neighbors were looking.  I didn’t even care that they were all outside scoping out the new neighbors.  I’m going to have to live near these people for a while.  I think I’ll introduce myself when we are on the way out.  Right now, I’m focused on getting the measurements we came for.

All the kids pile into the house.  Luckily the neighbors couldn’t hear the chaos that then ensued.  Have you ever seen five kids in a wide open area (prime running ground) – with new stairs to run up and down and new places to explore?  The volume level in there was unimaginable.  So we offer to have them help us take the measurements.

Who wants to help daddy with the tape measure????

I DO! (yell five small voices – 4 in unison, and one small Alison voice echoing the sentiment in her usual fashion.)

We only brought one tape measure.  We quickly realized the error of our ways.
It’s MY turn!

You aren’t doing that RIGHT!

Put it on the FLOOR, Becky or it won’t measure straight!

Dad --- Jesse’s pulling me!

Don’t push me!

You said I could do it this time!!!

Mommy the measurement is 14 feet…

No, that’s 14 inches

No it isn’t!  Feet!  Feet!  Feet!


We finally get all the measurements that we came for.  Or at least half of them anyway – these ones will do – I’m frustrated, tired and hot.  The house has no power right now, so therefore the 99 degrees outside have made their way inside the house and multiplied to over one hundred (or at least I think so, the thermostat only goes to 99….)  Ammon, me and five red-faced sweaty kids give up the mission and gather everything back to head back into the truck.

A quick flush of all the toilets (to keep them in proper working order…)

And we head out to the truck.

Alison picks up some glass from the sidewalk (from our formerly broken windows) and hands it to me.  Elizabeth does the same thing.

no no girls, don’t pick that up…

MOMMMMY!!! There are Ziggarets in our yard!  EWE!

Thank you Becky for pointing that out…(neighbors are now noticing we are back in the front yard).
Kids pile into the truck.

Daddy buckles Alison in – who has somehow convinced him that she’s going to ride in Elizabeth’s car seat.

That went over well.

Elizabeth started to scream.  And Yell.  And scream.

She threw herself on the floor in the truck – in the middle between the two captains chairs where she and Alison sit.

Somebody got a hold of one of her pig tails in the process of her throwing a fit.
Neighbors are looking at all of us.

Yes – we must be doing something terrible here.


Then the scream.

Have you ever heard the sound that a balloon makes when you blow it up and then squeeze the neck so that only a little air comes out at a time?  Combine that high pitched squeal with the sound that a garbage disposal makes when there’s a fork caught in it – and that’s the scream that was emanating from Elizabeth’s normally sweet little voice.

It took us about 5 minutes to get her buckled in and the doors closed.  (which I am sure didn’t muffle the screaming very much.)

We got in the car.  We backed out of the drive.  Elizabeth was still wailing. The guys next door (who I’d say are early 20’s at best) stared at us in disbelief.  I smile and wave nervously – surely they will call CPS on us.  If I heard a child make that noise, I might have.

We make it safely out of the neighborhood and are starting to turn onto Broadway to come home.  Ammon looks back at Elizabeth (who is still wailing) and says “I don’t know what happened to my Princess.  She turned into a Brat”

To which Elizabeth replied “I AM TOO A PRINCESS!!!  DON’T CALL ME NAMES!”
Ammon says  “I’m not calling you names, you are being a brat…Princesses don’t act like that.”

Sudden silence.

“I’m a Princess Now Daddy.  I’m happy.”

We turn around and look at her.

She’s smiling.

I’m still waiting for this Princess thing to Backfire.

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