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Stop playing with the dogs...

The hooligan boys have taken games to a whole new level.  They make everything in life a game to be played, they compete with each other. I really do not know if absolutely ever thing is a game, if I had to guess eating might not be a competitive sport for them as I make them eat in their kennel's. One inhales and the other savors every kibble he put in his mouth, unlike everything else they grab on to and put in their mouths. Now some of the games are done at top end speeds and and with such skill I believe their daddy is Houdini.  They honed their escaping technique while we were camping, it was scary to see the cunning they displayed.  I would be sitting at the table and see one of them out, I'd get them put back in the fenced in area and turn around and look up and they where already back where I grabbed them in the first place. This does leave one scratching their head in disbelief. They figured out how to get our napkins out of the little cup holder pockets on the camp chairs. Picking up shredded paper towels a dozen times a day was not on my list of fun camp activities. The girls went beach combing for Petoskey stones and would bring them back to camp and I always found them in one of their mouths.  I am not sure I can say with complete certainty if they were chewing them or sucking on them.  Either way the sound of rocks on there teeth was most annoying.   The fence line was the number one game during vacation as they were competing with each other at who could get out the mostest and fastest. Now, once out it is catch me if you can.  I learned quick to keep my voice in the happy playing sound as I cussed the hell out of them.  I have learn how to say "you little bastard your dead meat" in the cutest tone and with a happy ass smile on my face. As I would get them to stop, well some times I would, then pick them up and happily bounce them around in my arms playfully, the whole while resiting the urge to strangle them. Now they have me playing their games and I'm in full competition to succeed.  The other night the boys are in full game on and I could not get my stuff together to play on there terms so I was reverting back to the chase, which I hate. Now I am educated and should be able to out smart them but they are truly masters at their games.  It leave me in awe to see them in action with out being part of the game.  When I am part of the game I just want to strangle them and can only see red dogs. So I take my coffee and toast into the living room to watch news while I eat and take a little break, that was my first mistake. I had both hands full and the end table was full too. I then start to balance coffee cup with the toast on top so I can move all the remotes out of the way, second mistake. Then out of no where I felt a tug and looked at my hand with coffee and toast, the toast had been snagged and the game is on. I don't let them eat the things they snag as I don't want them to enjoy the spoils of our loss. I quickly put the coffee down and am in hot pursuit, yelling all the way.  As I am taking my right turn on the  landing I hear the kids upstairs yelling at me to "Stop Playing with the dogs Ma, that's why they are so bad". Okay so now I am standing there with the deer eyes in the headlight look on my face. As quick as I got my presence of mind back I continued my pursuit.  In these game to blink or hesitate is the difference between them swallowing and my retrieving. By the time I got to the basement the toast was gone and the hooligan was belly up letting me know this game is over, and I lost.  Now the other one comes running into the room and then the two of them tumbled a couple times on the bed and then they took off, leaving me standing there with the voice of my kids rumbling around my head saying"Stop playing with dogs" I am now thinking how would they know. I mean what do they know, as I am trying to defend myself to myself. I must try harder I am not just playing with the dogs. Or am I?

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