Oh, I've already committed an error. There is no more War on Terror, although the Obama administration has not yet renamed it. What should we call it? We get attacked and then try to play nice? I don't know. Honestly I have very few opinions when it comes to the struggle that is going on beyond our borders, as I'm hoping that those in charge know better than me. The border is another soapbox that I'll stay off for now. This wasn't supposed to be a political entry though, more humorous. Let's see if I can get there!
There is discussion of how to treat prisoners of war...the war we are having or the war we are not having? Not sure. Anyway, do we allow torture if it means that we can save millions of human (and probably American) lives? Water-boarding among other forms of torture seen on my favorite counter terrorism show seem to not be humane so I have another suggestion. How about the said terrorist spends a day with my 3 children? That terrorist would be begging for his life and ready to tell anybody anything they ever wanted to know.
As I was getting my children ready this morning, the thought came to mind. This is seriously a form of torture. Anyone who has more than one child can attest to this. While getting the first child dressed, one can only guess what the other two are doing. Usually tearing apart my house, and specifically the kitchen. Every morning I go into Little Dude's bedroom and let him out of his crib. We then argue (every morning) whether his diaper is clean or dirty. Yes, every morning. I take off his diaper...some days it's wet, other days it's dry. We debate. He says, "Me clean mama" and I say, "Little Dude, you are wet". "No, me clean mama..." On and on it goes EVERY single morning. Then it's the choice of underwear. He wants to wear "man-man" every day. Translation: Superman or Spiderman. If I choose the wrong superhero all hell breaks loose. Spoiled? Yes, he's #3 and has been mainly raised by Boy Wondertwin...is that wrong?
We then argue about putting on socks. Keep in mind. It's 10 degrees outside. EVERY morning he says, "Mong Feet HOT, mommy". Translation: My feet are hot, mommy. Is there a hot foot disease? If so, we may need to see a doctor. This child ALWAYS has hot feet.
Ultimately, after complete exhaustion on my part (and it's only 8AM), Little Dude is finally dressed.
I check one off the list and head to Boy Wondertwin's room. I'm usually dragging that child out of bed around 8:15AM. He thinks he's a teenager already. He could sleep all day if I would let him (and don't tempt me.) I lay clothes out for him, tear his covers off and kindly ask that he get dressed. Thinking (but knowing better) that I had checked off child #2, I then move on to Girl Wondertwin's room. You'd think I'd learn by now but I'm surprised every morning to find that she has sneaked (has snuck??? I like the latter better) downstairs to watch NOGGIN. I yell downstairs for her to get her tail-end upstairs. While waiting for her to mosey upstairs under her own free-will, I check on Boy Wondertwin. I pass the bathroom to find that Little Dude is tearing the place apart while using his BOY PART to spray down the bathroom. I stop in to clorox the place and promptly move him in another direction. I finally reach Boy Wondertwin's room where he has found another blanket and is again asleep in his bed. I tear off his blankets and throw him his clothes. I start to put his shirt on him (even though he is almost 5! Ugh!) and he screams that he has to put on his underwear first. Of course he does. I give up and check on Girl WonderTwin. I summon her again, only to find Little Dude climbing on top of the barstool to reach for his own breakfast. I scream and rush to his safety before an inevitable plummet. I've saved his life at least a million times now.
The above scenario continues until all 3 children are wearing something slightly presentable. I don't care at this point. At least the important parts are covered. The bacon and eggs breakfast that I had intended becomes a cereal bar and we head off to the athletic club. Of course I've already gotten my workout for the day. We stand in line to place the children in the Kid's Club. I give the banschees a once over as I hand them off. Turns out Girl Wondertwin's hair hasn't been brushed and Little Dude has his shoes on the wrong feet. I give up and run to Cardio where I get to be alone for an hour and recharge before the cycle begins again.
Doesn't this sound like adequate torture to get any bit of information we ever needed from these "said terrorists"? I think it just might work!