Smack down

So tonight, the girls are sitting at the little table in the kitchen, that I've yet to move back to the playroom after the party last weekend (and maybe I won't as they seem to enjoy it so much... but uh, I'm sidetracking myself)... and having a snack before bed.

They're chatting and kind of playing around and I'm not really paying too much attention. That is, until I hear:

Mouse: Baboo, let's play a game.

Baboo: OK! I like games!

Mouse: It's called Spider Smacker. You be the spider and I'll be the smacker! Put your hand out on the table and pretend to be a spider. And then I'll SMACK you!

Baboo: Uh.... I dwink my miwk. (slurp, slurp her milk)

Fortunately, there's no follow up smacking sounds or crying for that matter. I'm hoping it was Baboo's self-preservation instinct that kicked in and stopped her from getting whacked and not just an misunderstanding of the game.

After I stopped silently laughing behind the counter with tears running down my face, I reminded Mouse that hitting of ANY kind is not allowed. Not even disguised as a game. Oy.

I guess this is a reflection of what we do to spiders in the house around here. Sorry, Becprints. I know one day karma will turn me into the bug headed for the windshield.