Revenge con gas. (IOr, Octoboy gets his own back.)

 SnarkGirl (the 9-year-old) and OctoBoy have been at it, hammer and tongs, for days. Everything is worth a fight. This evening, though, he finally discovered the keys to his own revenge kingdom.

This afternoon, they had a particularly rancorous blow-up over K'nex. She destroyed one of his elaborate creations; he pitched a fit. Each was sent to a separate corner to cool down. After the prescribed time-out was served, she went to the kitchen to complete homework, and he went to his room to re-build his machine.

Or so I thought. (To fully explain his vengeance, I need to lay some knowledge.)

You see, the evening rituals in our house are fairly reliable. Around 7:45, we herd the three kids upstairs, and the jockeying for position around the sink (punctuated with a lot of noise) starts, as they brush their fangs. Then each child removes to his or her own bed. Whichever parent is "on" that night takes their own turn at washing up while the other visits each child in turn for kisses, hugs and "good nights!" (as well as last-minute reminders -- "I need my gym uniform tomorrow -- can you wash it?" and wheedling to stay up.)

The parent on bed duty then visits each child for prayers and a final kiss/tuck in, while the other parent takes his or her turn in the bathroom. Ideally, everyone is tucked and in bed by 8:15.

Tonight was my "off" night, so I was brushing my teeth when my eldest daughter came rushing in, gagging and crying, struggling for the mouthwash. She was  followed by a smirking OctoBoy and a husband biting his cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

It seems that, rather than building, OctoBoy was besmirching his sister's pillows. After nightly prayers and while Husband was putting the baby to bed, Octo snuck down the hall and dropped his bomb -- so to speak.

"I farted on your pillows!"

Then he ran for the hills, while she freaked the fuck out.


It was glorious. Truly, he is my son in all ways.