The Inmates Take Over the Asylum

I don't know how your Sunday mornings go, but over here, they are Anything But Peaceful.
In fact, I don't even need Wikipedia to tell me that the dude who wrote "Easy Like Sunday Morning" did not have five young insane people who he needed to get ready for Mass.  Anybody who thinks Sunday mornings are anything other than horrifyingly stressful probably spends them the way Ken and I did, pre-conversion:  reading the paper, doing the crossword, and eating a dozen bagels with cream cheese.


But now, our Sunday mornings involve a lot of screaming, and running around, and hunting down of misplaced items that for the love of God were just on the dang table!
And by the time we pile into the van and pull out of the driveway, inevitably, somebody is in Very Big Trouble.


This past Sunday, it was the entire posse of crazies, who had taken our family room and trashed it on the scale that one normally attributes to a meth-head rocker.  Or a pack of rabid raccoons.  On meth.  Either way, it earned all five of them a wonderful two day fast from all screens.


There was great wailing and gnashing of teeth.


They moaned.  They begged.  They pleaded.  
Then finally, they went to occupy themselves.


That Monday, I took the middle boys to their class.  When I came home, Ken met me in the garage.  
"Just don't yell at them.  They worked really hard on it."


Oh good grief.  The warning/guilt trip combo?  I was only gone for two hours.  And I had two of the crazies with me- how bad could it be?


I opened the door, and was greeted by this:

Life-sized super villains!  Two Face peeked out from the family room, while Scarecrow and Joker lurked upstairs.

And from upstairs, I could hear a threatening raspy voice and a maniacal laugh.  Not only were there life sized super villains in my house, they came equipped with sound!


Lotus and Joaquin jumped out from behind the drawings, gleeful and hyper.  They demanded that I tell them, no less than ninety times, how much I liked their project.  They demanded that I refer to the house as "Arkham Asylum" (done.  it's how I usually refer to Casa del Donaldson, anyway).  They demanded that I ignore the GIGANTIC HEAPING MESS THEY MADE OF THE LIVING ROOM as a result of the "creative process".


Ugh.  This "punishment for trashing one room by taking away the cathode ray nipple" was not working quite the way I'd hoped.


Since the middle boys' class had involved unseemly amounts of time out in sub-freezing weather, I went to go take a shower.  But I was too late.  Some of Arkham's inmates had occupied the bathroom.

Out of all of them, this one was my favorite.  There was just something about Penguin's face and monocle combo that just tickled me.  


Until I took a shower, that is, and every time I opened my eyes, I had a momentary heart attack as oh my God, there is a person peeping at me from behind the bathroom wall!!!!  
Every.  Single.  Time.

Boo!