"And they live among the broken toys and sit upon my couch. Some call me mom, some have four legs and make me say "Hey, Ouch!" The Devil marches on!" Oh yeah, they march on all right. Down my hall, onto my bed, into the bathtub, through the kitchen sink, on top of the washer and dryer, and into the pantry... Now I'm sure that this evil isn't planned or even intentional by the other occupants in my house. Matter of fact, I'm willing to go so far as to admit that all of these mishaps wouldn't even qualify as evil by the average, ordinary person on the street. But they don't live here, do they?
Now...I must admit that my definition of "evil" has changed over the years as I've gone from a youth to an adult. Like the loud music I used to listed to in my room as a teenager was cool. Technically it still is
. But loud music coming from the kids rooms? Evil...totally evil, because "Call Me Maybe" will never be as rad as "Master Of Puppets," thank you very much. The music of today is...evil And making a mess on my parents floors while waiting for the dog to vacuum it up was funny. But when my kids make a mess on the floor and walk away knowing some four-legged animal will clean it up it's not only not funny, it's evil. Because the cat tends to do his business in that spot when the dog is done as if to ask, "What about me" and that makes it evil. Since I'm the one stuck with the sponge and hot soapy water. I suppose the word evil has also evolved as I've gone from a young, hip soccer mom who can 
handle anything on 2 hours of sleep a night to a grumpy ole house wife who prays for a nap. No...that's not it. It's evolved each time I've given birth or got a new pet. Why? Because with each new living creature that comes into my home I lose more brain cells, get less sleep, sneeze more often, my heartburn increases and I step on more sharp things that make me say "Owie!!" Well, actually I end up crying, "Damn it" as I fall over the cat, the dog, some tennis shoes or a Lego star ship and bust my nose on the kitchen wall. Which gets the five old running around saying, "Damn it" to the dog as the dog eats her fruit roll ups or to the cat as he takes her socks and plays, "Catch." Which causes a whole series of evil deeds as the living couch tips over or the floor lamps crash on the coffee tables.
But today my children reached a whole new level of evil when they came home from school. It began when son #2 walked in the door and asked the dog what was for dinner while he scratched the back of my ears and rubbed my belly. "Um, son...would it be safe to guess that you forgot your glasses at school again?" He pulled his hand away "Oops, sorry mom. Yeah, I did leave them and now you sort of have the same hair as the dog. Not that you look like a dog or anything." He pulled his foot out of his mouth. "Um...what's for dinner?" And he reached over to begin petting his little sisters Easter rabbit. While I was
coming to terms with the fact that I was just compared to a dog, my daughter and son number five asked me if they could listen to music so they could practice getting ready for their future try outs on "So you think you can dance." "Sure. Just stay off the kitchen counter tops and the T.V. this time. I'm going to shower." Five minutes later I was standing in hall holding my hair back with one hand and yelling, "Where in the Sam Hail are all of my scrunchie's so I can pull my hair back?" The youngest two came out of their room, dripping wet and doing jumping jacks to Olivia Newton John's "Let Get Physical" and replied, "We're sweating to th
e oldies with them!" "With my scrunchie's around your head, wrists and ankles?" "Yeah, why...is that bad? See...evil. And these are the pictures to prove it. First we see the five year old showing off. >>> 
This is a shot of both of them getting physical. <<< 
And my daughter one more time...>>>
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