a brief word from the bickering boys...

Coming home from daycare, my children got into a knock-down, screaming fight about...the EXACT number of shady spots in our front yard.

Jabber (screaming): NAME the third one! NAME IT.
Monkey (screaming back): I'LL SHOW YOU WHEN WE GET THERE!
J (inhuman growl of rage): NAAAAAAME IT.
M: I'LL SHOW YOU WHEN WE GET THERE!
J: I DON'T BELIEVE YOU THERE ARE ONLY TWO SHADY SPOTS TWO SHADY SPOTS TWO SHADY SPOTS
M: THREE SHADY SPOTS THREE SHADY SPOTS THREE SHADY SPOTS
elissa: (explodes*) WHO THE HELL CARES IS THIS REALLY WORTH SCREAMING ABOUT I JUST FREAKING PICKED YOU UP FROM A MORNING AT DAYCARE AND I AM SUPPOSED TO BE FEELING FOND AND LOVING FEELINGS ABOUT MY LONG-LOST CHILDREN BUT RIGHT NOW I AM NOT FEELING THOSE FEELINGS AND I DO NOT CARE ONE FREAKING BIT HOW MANY SHADY SPOTS ARE IN THE FRONT YARD SO NO MORE TALKING NOT ONE WORD UNTIL WE GET HOME. GOT IT????
(long quiet pause)
M: Until we get home?
elissa: Be quiet.
M: Until we get home?
M: Until we get home, Mama, and then we can talk?
M: Mom? MOM. Until we get home?
J: MONKEY'S TALKING!
M: BROTHER'S BREATHING!
J: I HAVE TO BREATHE! IT'S HOW I STAY ALIVE! IF YOU DON'T BREATHE THEN YOU DIE!
M: BROTHER'S YELLING!
elissa: BE QUIET.
(quiet pause; we pull up at curb outside of house)
M: (pointing them out) one. two. three. four. four shady spots.
J: (shrugging amiably) Huh. There ARE four shady spots. YESSSS!

*I know, I know.  Mom of the freaking year I am not.