We're a Wee Bit Over Hulk

On a positive note, last night was interesting for us. (I’ve gotta put some light stuff in here because blog sis Tammi reads me and I want to make her laugh.) Son#3, Hulkboy, has these big rubber hulk hands, when you smash them together they make Hulk sounds. While we were clearing outside for the potential hit from Charley, bringing in toys and furniture, he left these big rubber hands outside. They got soaked, which means the batteries are shorting out.

Last night at 2AM, we heard a shriek from his room. Being the good Mom I am, I stayed in bed while my Better Half went to see what was up. Son#3 explained that his Hulk Hands were going off spontaneously and scaring the crap out of him. My husband moved them out into the laundry room and closed the door to ensure they couldn’t be heard. I could hear them going off as he was transporting them. As my husband said, "Forget about being 5 and hearing them go off. At 2AM, in a deep sleep, Hulk screaming is enough to scare the crap out of anyone."

Hulkboy said to me at dinner tonight, “Mom, did you hear me last night crying for you? There was a monster in my room. It sounded like it. My hulk hands were saying, “HULK! SMASH ‘EM!”. Daddy came in and saved my life.”

Nice, eh? Daddy comes in and removes big rubber hulk hands and it becomes ‘he saved my life’. Trust me, if it had been me, that would not have been so. That falls under the category of ‘hero worship’, also known as “Daddy’s home, Mom’s a piece if shit.”