Husbandly Text: Did you guys get there okay?
My Text: Yeah. Girls setting up tents now.
My Text: By the way.
My Text: One match. You tell Scoutmaster “Do you need Girl Scout Water for that fire?” to suck it.
Husbandly text: Nice. Beta says “You used a match?”
My Text: Ms. C texted me earlier to say she’s looking for Teen Boy Lawn Care. Tell Mr. Sassomancer that his free time this weekend is now spoken for.
(scene opens in cluttered parlor)
Gamma: (shrieking) MOM! BETA IS CALLING ME A LOSER.
Me: (resignedly enters the room, sees Beta with thumb on either side of his head, single finger raised like horns) Beta?
Beta: (waggles hands) I’m not calling her a loser, I’m pretending to be a moose.
Gamma: (moar shrieking) THOSE ARE ‘L’s! ‘L’s MEAN LOSER!
Me: (inhales deeply, stares in Ron Swanson) That’s not a moose. You need all your fingers for moose horns.
Beta: (processes, opens both hands) I’m a moose!
Gamma: (quick reversal) YOU’RE A MOOSE! MOOSE! MOOSE! MOOSE!
Me: (contemplates the absurdity of her existence, exits stage left)
(scene opens in tossed parlor, woman on settee needlepointing)
Beta: (bleary, wanders in) Morning.
Me: (looks out window) Noon. What happened to your lip? Is that a cold sore?
Beta: (delicately run fingers over bruised, fat, slightly bloody lower lip) No. Uh, you know where the corner is on the bottom of our stairs? How its the same color as the other door next to it? And how it angles? Well, I thought that it was part of the door and when I tried to open the door, I walked into it.
Me: (silence)
Beta: What?
Me: You walked into your door.
Beta: Yes.
Me: (sigh) Well, this is the point where I would give you Obligatory Mock, because you are deserving of Obligatory Mock. However, I feel that – given the circumstances – just notifying you of your deserving Obligatory Mock covers it and we’ll let it go. No promises on the rest of your siblings.
Beta: (resignedly nods) Acceptable.
