I have two ninjas running amok in my house (Ninja #1 is 3 years-old; Ninja #2 is 5-months). Their resourcefulness astonishes me. Today, during a dreary 30-minute lunch, they developed a secret code now used to delay important missions. Example: Ninja #1 now uses said code to impede consumption of the evening meal. Procrastination.

The code – and don’t mention it to anyone or bad things will happen, although I’m not sure what – is generally initiated with a knowing grin to Ninja #1, by the seemingly innocent Ninja #2. This is followed by several illogical statements between Ninja #1 and 2. Eventually, silence. Both ninjas sit and stare at each other with a secret understanding. Then, laughter. Yes. The room fills with the chillingly humorous sound of maniacal laughter. One can only imagine the secret messages the ninjas are sending to each other in those fits of laughter. I, unfortunately, do not have the skill to break their code yet. And so, I do the only thing I can in this situation. I raise my eyebrows and turn away.

Boys. I am a mother of boys.


Ninja feet.


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