Ever since we went to the dirtbar, my two new semi-foster children have been acting up like a punch-a-goose. They have been yelling, screaming, hitting, throwing stuff, and doing things they KNOW they're not supposed to just to do them.
Punch-a-goose is an old Galindo family phrase which my family originated in Arizona in the 19080s. As used in the paragraph above, the phrase means "like the noise that would occur if one were to punch the shit out of a goose." I hope to spread punch-a-goose to the world.
They have been terrorists, little children terrorists terrorizing us just like normal sized terrorists terrorize the U.S. My own littlest one has been fairly bad and outspoken these past few days as well but nowhere near swallowing an entire pack of gun and throwing toys at my penis.
Emerald, my oldest daughter, has also been terrorized by these kids. She's almost nine. She's getting to be less of a terror and more of an independent mini-woman. The last thing she wants is to have a bunch of terrors all on her jock.
We're trying our best. But everyday is an uphill battle and it's a battle we seem to be losing. And I just don't know what else we can do.
I'm going to start taking a page from my late, great grandfather.
I'm going to hogtie them and leave them in the backyard.