How many hours in a day, again?

Shhh...I'm hiding up here attempting to escape the madness of No School Day. It's me, my Coke, and Pringles can. Lunch of Champs indeed. Do you know how many times I've had to ask Gil to stop shrieking? How many times Allie's said, "Stop it, Gil!" Or how many times Gil's said, "Mom, Al hit me..."

And no tears. Yet.

No, you don't know. You have no idea because you are not the lucky mom who gets to referee their nonsense on a daily basis. Note I feel lucky. Because I do. I really and truly do. Seriously. No, I swear. For real. Swear to God.

At lunch I announced my policy reminder as one or the other sought a tattle:

"Do not involve me in your madness unless someone is bleeding, dying, or bones are broken."

My smartassed children [or chips off the old block, apples don't fall far from the tree, wonder where they get it...] respond,

"Or if someone is stabbed." "Yeah, stabbed in the head."

How does a mother respond to such horror?

"That falls into the bleeding category, now doesn't it?"