somewhere in paris.
shenanigans of all sorts.
i am getting short on patience.
i decide to pull out the big guns, the idea isn't a new one - it's been used for years, but was recently mentioned to me by someone i know.
standing at the door of the bedroom, i withdraw my cellphone.
throwing a glance towards the boys, i start to dial.
the oldest of the two boys glances at me for a moment, continues shananigans, pauses and asks:
"who are you calling*?"
i can see the incredulous look pass over his face. his mind is racing. should he believe me? he's not sure, he's debating.
"no you aren't*."
i can tell he's still not sure though, he's just testing the waters. trying to call my bluff. i stare him down and say very evenly:
"do i look like i'm kidding*?"
to believe or not believe, that is the question.
the four year old: "NOOOOOOOOOO! DON'T CALL SANTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!*"
the seven year old: "QUICK! CLOSE YOUR EYES! CLOSE YOUR EYES! CLOSE YOUR EYES! GO TO SLEEP! we're sleeping! we're sleeping*"
both asleep and out for the count in under 10 minutes.
:: smirks ::
*translated from the french