In-house Memo

The kids have learned that there are certain times when Mommy is absolutely, positively NOT to be disturbed by anything so aggrevatingly irksome as their dulcet little voices raised in dubious need of my urgent attention.

When Mommy's on the phone, for example. Or, when Mommy has a migraine. And, most especially, when Mommy is listening to the 'Wait, Wait...' podcast while she's making dinner.

Seriously. Don't even ask. It's only going to piss her off, and cause her to reject any request or query on general principle.

EM has learned to get around this mountain by shoving little notes in my face, and flapping them under my nose until I'm forced to acknowledge them or sneeze undaintily. Tiny little missives scribbled on tiny little squares of torn paper:

"Can I have a apel?"

"Can I go to Selinas hous?"

"Wher did you put my Nintendo this time?"

Her spelling is consistently dreadful, but she gets her point across.

So how proud was I tonight when, for the very first time, Boy followed her example?

Hear that, doubting Teacher lady? Not only can Boy read, but he WRITES too! Ha! I've got the proof of it right here....

......Only....Dude.....Wait.....

What?

So here's your riddle for the weekend:

What does Boy want?