Day 3.

It was like this:

Me: What do you guys want to do about lunch? Hey, everybody?

Son #1: Mac-n-cheese.

Son #2: I don't know.

Daughter: THERE'S NOTHING IN THIS HOUSE TO EAT. OUR FRIDGE HAS NOTHING IN IT THAT I CAN EAT AND I'M HUNGRY.

Me: Okay. Let's take a look. Pretend you're at school and you don't want the hot lunch. What do you want? Bologna sandwich?

Daughter: I'm sick of bologna!

Me: {biting the inside of my cheek as I open the microwavable mac-n-cheese that was the last kind available on the grocery shelf.}

Daughter: {grunts}

Me: Peanut butter sandwich.

Daughter: I HATE THOSE.

Me: Tuna. Sandwich.

Daughter: I HATE TUNA!

Me: Okay, figure it out on your own.

Daughter: {storms upstairs.} {From upstairs} YOU GUYS SHOULD BE REALLY GLAD I DON'T HAVE MY PERIOD YET BECAUSE THEN I'D BE REALLY CRAZY.

10 minutes later. Boys are eating barbeque potato chips and dipping them in applesauce. The microwavable mac-n-cheese was less than satisfactory.

Daughter: Did you make my bologna sandwich?

Me: You said you're sick of bologna.

Daughter: WHAT! I NEVER SAID THAT! GOD, MOM! YOU NEVER LISTEN!

Me: Right. I'm not listening to this, that's for sure. {I dip a BBQ chip in applesauce.}