the facts of life : special edition by the mills hooligans

preface: I’m totally building a kitchen for the kids this christmas, as their gift from US. I’m sick of santa getting all the props around here. It really has nothing to do with anything, other than photos make for better visual stimuli, presentation, and other stupid things I can mention on here to make myself sound knowitallish. via knock off wood. go there now. and then come back, even though they are totally awesomely incredible. good story. I’m totally building my own version, so don’t judge me later. but this one is so awesome, it makes my head hurt.

Last week, the kids were playing house, or some other adult scenario where they carried out their various household chores and lovingly referred to one another as “honey.”

{Gotta say, as one big fat giant preface, I’m not really sure where they get this stuff. Let me just assure ALL of you who are currently dry heaving…Jamin and I DO NOT walk around calling each other “honey.” I mean, who does that? Nasty married people. That’s who. Our PDA’s usually include a nice slap on the butt and a curt ‘getoutamyway’ in the kitchen.}

Aiden was all, “let me help you, honey.”

and Emerson would respond with a loving, “Thank you, honey.”

(I guess in pretend world, she finally convinced him to marry her)

and they were both all, “I love you, honey.” and “awe, honey.” With nice little affectionate pats on the back.

I was slightly amused, but mostly baffled as to who had modeled this whole loving family nonsensical behavior for them, as I was lying on the floor with Malone, participating in the fun, pretending to be their child and enjoy “nap time.”

I tend to do that a lot. I’m all, “wah. baby tired. baby sleep. no talk. for good twenty minutes. you go to work while baby sleep. If you want baby to wake up, you walk on baby’s back like massage therapist.” (apparently baby also takes on the persona of a foreigner with choppy english, but that’s just me keeping it real).

The next thing I know, I’m unconscious and the kids have migrated into the kitchen and decided to whip up a box o brownies on their own. I only knew that because the smell of smoke woke me.

oh. wait. that was MY childhood. Silly me.

moving on…

I was enjoying their playful banter, when I noticed a lull in the conversation. Emerson stayed in the room, and prepared dinner dutifully, but in the meantime, Aiden disappeared.

Moments later he reemerged, wearing only his underwear.

“Honey,” he announced proudly, as he swung by one arm in the doorframe. “I’m NAKED!”

No. We DID NOT teach him that. At least, not intentionally. WHAT???

These blatantly obvious facts of life were brought to you today, by the one and only Aiden Mills.

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