molly you are ruining our game. we are playing spy and if you see us playing it then that ruinins it owen said as he pears around the mound of dirty laundry. molly replies with a nonchalant well i could see you the hole time. the wind whipping the shingles of the house grinds the nerves of the home provider as visions of ditches running over haunt his tired brain. a steady droning thud permeate the air haylee's bobbing head keeping its perfect rhythm. crawling among the dinning clutter she picks and pushes small piles of debris from here to there in an effort to look like she is cleaning. on occasional a off key Bellow cuts the air which can only be explained by a possible recognition of the toon she is currently listening to. a vain jax stands in his crib in the Conner admiring himself in the full length mirror which poses as a door. with full understanding of his vocalising future he aahs and goo goos as loud as he can. frans in interest of fun has discovered a plastic knife and has currently engaged all the children in a running yelling fake knife fight. yells for varies children are repeated over and over until there attention is obtained mikaydie not wanting to be left out is herd adding her two some times three cents worth. hi yah, got ya, hay do my move, aaaaooooiiieee, scream, yell, singing, bowling, crying.
It must be bed time.
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