(maybe a mini-van of some sort, packed full of kids no more than 5 feet high), careening at top speed (who knew a mini-van could go that fast!), down a twisting turning canyon? And at the bottom of that canyon is dooooom. Did you read that to yourself with an echo in your head? No? Go back and do it, I'll wait. Dooooooom.
That's how my house feels these past few days. A mini-van of DOooOOooM flying down the turns into a bottomless canyon.
Because apparently my children have caught the dreaded winter disease. No, it's not the flu. Or pneumonia. Or croup. It's not even polio or anything else like that. It's the much more hazardous (to their health and my sanity) Bickers.
Bicker Bicker Bicker (pause to eat/cry/sleep/whine) Bicker Bicker Bicker.
It doesn't even matter that Santa is watching them. Oh no. Who cares? They are 100% devoted to driving each other (and in turn, me) insane.
Stay tuned, the mini-van is bound to crash into the bottom soon.