David and I seem to have acquired a few more occupants to our little abode. I'm not sure when they moved in or where they came from since the grandkids seem to be the only ones with the ability to 'see' them but, darn it, they sure are exasperating. The names of these new family members are I Dunno, It Wasn't Me, I Don't Care, and Whatever.
I'm not sure if they are girls or boys but we can both agree their presence is enough to drive a woman to start buying wine by the case. The first one to make his or her appearance was I Dunno.
I Dunno loves to make his whereabouts known about the same time the grandsons come to spend "quality time" with Nana and Papa, and by "quality time" I mean they run us ragged then go home after we pass out from exhaustion. Ha Ha! Anyway, if the grandsons can see him, why can't Papa and I? All I know is he's a rotten little stinker. "Who left the Legos scat
"Who left the Legos scattered all over the middle of the floor (where I managed to step on each and every one barefooted)?" I ask as I grimace through clinched teeth so I don't use words little ears don't need to hear.
"I Dunno," they chime in all at once.
"Who took all the games out of the closet and left them in the middle of the hallway floor?" I inquire. I was trying to sneak down the hall to the bedroom to make sure they were asleep and not using the bed for a trampoline. Boobytrapped hallways are a big no-no.
"I Dunno," they mumble, trying to act like they weren't just bouncing on the bed. I heard the distinct thunk of a body hitting the floor.
Who knew I Dunno has an equally rotten little brother (or sister? I'm not sure.)? It Wasn't Me made his company known a few nights ago.
"Who took the ice cream out of the freezer and left the door open all night?" I yelled as I was mopping up the melted contents.
"It Wasn't Me," they shouted back, barely taking their eyes off the television set.
"Who fed the dog the last of the pot roast I was saving for lunch?"
Wouldn't you know It Wasn't Me was the culprit. Apparently, he is also the one who eats all the cookies, ice cream, potato chips, and sugar-laden cereal when the boys come to visit. He's quite the little piggy.
Entertaining five small, very energetic boys is nothing compared to the tough job of keeping seven teenage girls occupied. I insist they pick what we do, what we eat, or what we watch. This exercise in futility manifested itself into the “appearance” of two more new inhabitants to the household who like to come around when the granddaughters are spending the night with us. Their names are "I Don't Care" and "Whatever."
"What do you girls want to watch on television tonight? Do you all want to watch a movie?" I ask.
"I Don't Care," they answer.
"Okay," I say, "Wheel of Fortune, it is." "Whatever." Seven teenage
"Whatever." Seven teenage girls moaning in unison can be quite loud.
"How about we play a game?"
I still haven't put them all back in the game closet since the boys' last visit a week ago. (Do I look like Heloise, the housekeeping guru? Don't answer that.)
"I Don't Care."
"Do you all want to play 'The Game of Life'? Or how about 'Phase Ten'?”
"Whatever," they all agree is the appropriate answer.
It isn't.
"Are you all hungry? What do you want to eat? Cook here or takeout?"
All I hear is "Whatever" and "I Don't Care."
I was hoping they would all want takeout since I'm not fond of cooking anymore although you can't tell by looking at me. (I heard that.)
"How about Chinese? Or Mexican? Or Italian? Or fast food? Can you girls just pick something? Today?"
This is when It Doesn't Matter made his first appearance. I think It Doesn't Matter might be I Don't Care's cousin but he better not try moving in here with I Dunno, It Wasn't Me, I Don't Care and Whatever.