Out of, and into, the mouths of babes

I go into the kitchen a little bit ago, where the kids are having breakfast, and I say to the room "Here's the plan for today, guys. I want everybody dressed and out of the house for at least a few hours."

See, if it was up to them, they would sit around in their underwear watching TV all day and doing nothing. They need to at least see the light of day for a bit, get some vitamin D, etc. I'm not going to be responsible for creating cute little vampires, I'll tell you that much.

They don't like the idea of having to get dressed and leave the house, however, so Child 2 comes up to me with this sad, doe-eyed expression on his face and says "But I don't feel good." 

So I say "then put down the bacon."

And then he does this:

You can tell this kid is mine.

---

Proud of my boy

That says "nuzzle nuzzle." A very common occurrence in our house, although we almost always have faces at the time.

Child 2 has an assignment for school. It's to take a scenario that his teacher chose and write a story from it: his scenario is a student sitting at a table with a teacher.

His story is about this student who got into trouble for punching another kid and is now having a "conference" with the teacher about the incident. The kid (who doesn't have a name that I can tell) "acts very angry all the time." It was his first day at a new school, he got into a fight with another kid, and he punched him. But this nameless boy's father is sick and the boy has gone to stay with his grandmother while his mother and father go to a different state to seek treatment. Nobody at his new school knows about his parents, they just see that he is angry all the time. The reality is that he's scared and upset and worried about his parents, but it comes out like anger because that's how he expresses himself, and maybe if he could make some friends he wouldn't be so angry all the time.

I'm so goddamned proud of him. At 7 he already has more empathy than most adults.

---

Wordless Wednesday: "Mysteriously farting curtain"

---

The Prince of Cake

Tonight at dinner, Child 2 was being very argumentative. This is not an unusual occurrence. He didn't like what I had made (macaroni and cheese, of all things) and he complained about every bite. "I don't like macaroni and cheese." I replied, as usual, "well, that's your dinner...." Child 1 loves macaroni and cheese, he was gobbling it down during the discussion.

Dinner is over and they both run off. Hubs is home, so I tell him he's in charge and I go downstairs to watch the Boston coverage.

Later, I go upstairs to get something and I find Child 2 in the bathroom crying. Also not an unusual occurrence. "Tell her what you told me," Hubs says to him. Uh oh...

"Mama, I have two things to tell you but you're going to be really really mad at me about both of them." (This is how he talks, he gives me lists. He's so much like me. Soon he'll be communicating entirely in Excel spreadsheets. My boy!!) "Okay," I answer cautiously, because by this time I was watching The Voice and Hubs was in charge of bedtime so I didn't really want to get involved in whatever the hell was going on here.

"Number one, I just found out that you really love the chocolate peanut butter dips." He says. He's talking about granola bars. "That's true, I do." I say, because who doesn't love chocolate and peanut butter? "Number two," he continues "I ate, like, six of them and now I think I'm going to throw up." He dissolves into sobs. Apparently as I sat and watched MSNBC he had stolen and eaten all of my granola bars because he was still hungry. "I FEEL SO GUILTY!" he cried. "OH." I say. "Well, I don't really care that much about that first one, but the second one? Yeah, you're kind of in big trouble. Okay, bye!" I say and run out of the room, leaving Hubs in charge of punishment.

Later Hubs comes down to report that "Child 2 is in his room and he's on lockdown. He's only allowed to come out to pee." Usually he comes out up to 10 times after he's gone to bed. One time I actually paid him $5 to stay in there all night. "Also I read him that cake post from Hyperbole and a Half."

"The God of Cake?" I say, because I know her stuff like the back of my hand. "You read him the God of Cake?"

"Yeah, that's what it's called, The God of Cake. Except I don't think it had the impact I was hoping for, because even while she's throwing up cake all over the place, she's not sorry at ALL. She's just a hyperactive, sugar-filled, throwing up, remorseless nightmare."

Because that's how we roll in this house: Allie Brosh is our go-to for cautionary tales. But, on the plus side, it's been over an hour now, he's still in his room and he hasn't thrown up at ALL.

---

Midnight adventures in barfing

One night last week, the kids had gone to bed and I was fucking around on my computer; getting my "me time" (so it was between the hours of 10:45pm and 11:30pm. 45 minutes of "me time" EVERY FUCKING DAY!! YES!!!") when I heard crying coming from Child 2's room. It was soft, it lasted a few seconds, and then it stopped.

I did nothing. In retrospect, I'm a fucking idiot, but you know how much of a bitch that "retrospect" can be. But this kid is a barfer, he randomly barfs at random times, usually in the middle of the night, and it always starts with him making these soft crying sounds. Then it escalates into a big, smelly mess, and it was right then that I should have gotten a bucket and put it next to his bed. But, like I said: Fucking idiot.

A few minutes later it started again. Soft crying, lasted a few seconds, then stopped. Then it started again, a little bit louder, a little bit longer, and stopped again.

I still did nothing. (Fuck off, Retrospect). Then it happened again: louder, longer, etc. Finally I decided to get up and go in there to see what was up. I sat down on Child 2's bed and he immediately sat up and gave me a hug.

"Did you have a bad dream?" I asked him. "No," he cried. "I'm just afraid of the balloons."

Ahhhh, I see. I laid him back down, covered him up and went back to my room. How cute, I thought. He's having a bad dream about balloons! Aren't kids just so cute??? I wish my bad dreams were about fucking balloons.

I went to bed, while he continued to intermittently make soft crying sounds. "Balloons," I thought as I drifted off. SO CUTE!!

Maybe 5 minutes after I fell asleep, suddenly there's a very loud "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" coming from his room. I bolt up, but I had been asleep for just minutes, so my brain didn't really bolt up with me. I was very confused, stuck halfway between sleeping and waking, and I got up out of bed and just stood in the middle of my floor, unsure about what to do, while he yelled stuff.

Then there's another "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" followed by the unmistakable sound of my child barfing. But I was still really confused. What happened to the balloons? And so I just stood there, listening to him yelling and retching, and hearing those horrible splashing sounds. *shudder*

"I should probably be doing something," I thought, and I heard Hubs coming up the stairs. "Oh, good," I thought. "I bet he can figure out what I'm supposed to be doing right now. And then hopefully he'll tell me."

It was right then that Child 2 screamed, at the top of his little lungs: "WOULD SOMEBODY JUST GET ME A FUCKING TOWEL???" and suddenly I snapped out of it! Yes! A towel! I should get him a towel!!! That's what I should be doing right now!! So I ran to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and brought it to him.

That was all it took, I guess. Just an angelic 7 year old shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs to snap me out of my disorientation. Oh, and in related news, this weekend Hubs went to Costco and bought a carpet spot cleaner. Only $80! Such a deal!!!

---

What is the deal with Brenda and those apples?

Child 2 and I are looking over his homework and he reads out loud the following:

His response? Much like you would expect any precocious 7 year old to say, I think:

"She sold some apples because she had way too many apples, she actually needed to sell more than 350. 753 is a lifetime supply of apples, she really didn't need more than, say, 10, and even that is a lot."

---

Some days you get the autism, and some days the autism gets you

I was waiting for this morning; I've been waiting for 2 1/2 weeks now and somehow I was still surprised by it. It's the third week of school and the honeymoon phase is over. The harsh, cold reality of "there is school every day" has sunk in and Child 1 has begun to rebel. It started on Sunday night when he didn't want to go to bed by himself and lead up to this morning, when he had a meltdown (a meltdown for him, anyway; even his meltdowns are pretty mellow). He threw a bowl of Cheerios away, and he hit me. Although, saying he hit me isn't really that dramatic, since he's so skinny and weak and has that hypertonia going on, his "hit" doesn't really pack much of a punch, but still. He very rarely does anything even close to that, so when he's crying and hitting me it's something to take very seriously.

First I tried to get him to tell me exactly what the problem was, which is always a waste of time, because I know what the problem is: he doesn't like school! And he can't really get specific about that, at least not specific enough to satisfy me, although he does try. He threw out things like "this is the real reason why I don't want to go to school, because I have to do math," and "I have P.E." etc.

The truth is that he doesn't like school, and he didn't want to go. I tried to fight it but it just kept getting worse because the more I tried the worse his anxiety got. So, I hinted at him staying home, to see what kind of reaction I would get (duh). Unfortunately, Child 2 heard that and immediately says "If Child 1 doesn't have to go to school, then I don't have to go to school. That's not fair."

Well, shit. He's right, you know. Now, of course I always have the option of saying "because I said so" and forcing him in the car, but he's right that it's not fair. Child 1 isn't sick and even if Child 2 understood the nuances of autism, which he doesn't, he's still only 7 and uses 7 year old reasoning and 7 year old reasoning says that if his brother isn't sick and gets to stay home then he should, too.

It was at that point that I just said fuck it, everybody stays home. I didn't have anything to do that I couldn't reschedule (but I was sad, because Danielle and I were going to have lunch, and I don't often get to do fun stuff during the day ) and I just didn't have the energy to fight it.

So, fuck it. You win this round, autism. I admit my defeat, partly because I was caught unprepared for something I should have been prepared for but mostly because I just didn't have it in me to put up a fight. They both get to stay home today, but they're not allowed to do anything fun! No TV and no computer and no iPod until 3:00!!! That's how I put my foot down, I can't be a complete loser in this scenario. That, of course, didn't stop me from feeling like a complete loser, waste of a mom, totally defeated by failure.

I know that's not true, but that's how I felt.

Maybe tomorrow, right?

---

Pictures from our trip

Okay, I have to admit, I felt kind of bad for my snarky attitude in my last post about how I was going to take pictures but you guys wouldn't get to see them. I mean... that's not very nice. Here you've been loyal readers, putting up with my bullshit for all this time, and I can't even do you the favor of showing you pictures from our recent vacation? What kind of a blogger AM I, anyway?

So, I apologize. Please forgive me, and please enjoy this photographic evidence that my family and I actually left the house.

So, our first stop was in Santa Cruz, at the Beach Boardwalk, which is basically just the Santa Cruz We Will Take All Your Moneywalk. When we first arrived I bought a bottle of water and it was fucking FOUR DOLLARS. So I say "Damn." and the dude says "Yeah." and Child 2 says "How about we just give you a dollar for it?" and I say "I brought my negotiator with me today" and the dude says "Yeah, good luck with that on the Boardwalk."

I won't tell you how much money we spent there. Nobody needs to know that.

Anyway, here are the kids playing some "squirt the water and win a cheap prize that costs less than you paid to play the game" game. Hubs won a shitty little fucking turtle thing.

Here's me looking really surprised as I get smacked in the face with a shitload of water on my way down the Log Ride.

After the Boardwalk, we stayed at a hotel in Monterey for the night, where both of the kids decided to make videos of the experience. Child 2 got a great one of him and Hubs going to get ice. Riveting.

The next day we were off to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, which was actually really fun. There's so much cool shit to see there!! Fish, for instance:

Child 2 enjoying some fish

Child 1 also enjoying some fish

AND OMGPENGUINS:

I took notes on my phone for this trip, because Child 2 busts out with the funniest shit at any given moment. See that little dude standing next to Child 2? That kid is maybe 2, probably 18 months, and doesn't really talk much. But, he's pointing at the window and saying "PIN! PIN!" for penguin. Meanwhile, here's the very helpful Child 2, who for some reason is offended by this toddler's misuse of the English language, and tells him "Hey, you're saying 'penguin' wrong. HEY. You're saying it wrong! Okay, if you want to say 'penguin' right, copy me... pen.......... guin." Sadly, his efforts at teaching preschool weren't very successful.

And let's not forget this beautiful Moment of Love in the Aquarium

.....while Child 2 watches and yells "Hey! It's like one penguin riding another penguin!" and I say "okay... I think we're done here" and I usher him out the door...... but not before taking a picture.... of course.

Another cool thing the aquarium has is these touch screens where you draw a jellyfish:

and then "set it free" in the ocean:

I'll be honest with you guys.... the urge to draw a giant penis here was overwhelming.

Anyway.... all in all, the fish were neat, I guess, but I think we all know the real reason we spent hundreds of dollars to go on this trip:

worth it

---

"It made me realize I had failed as a parent"

Sunday night. I'm fast asleep. I have the bed to myself when Child 2 comes in and lies down with me.

He coughs. And twitches a little.

Silence.

He coughs again. And whines softly.

Oh, god. I know what this is. I KNOW WHAT THIS IS! He's going to fucking PUKE! This is what he does when he pukes, he coughs and whines like that!

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he just has something stuck in his throat. Oh, please let me be wrong. I have to go to work in 6 hours, I can't be up all night with a barfy boy.

Silence.

Cough.

Whine.

Cough.

Louder whine.

Cough. Gag.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Wretch.

"Child 2, quick! Get to the bathroom!!"

He gets up and starts heading toward the bathroom. And he starts yelling.

"FUCK! SHIT!! FUCK!!! SHIT!!!"

Oh. Oh, good god.

He makes it to the bathroom and I'm now standing in the middle of the pitch black bedroom. From there I can hear the telltale sounds of stomach contents being emptied. Into the sink. Well, at least it's not the floor. Or my bed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" he howls from the bathroom. "SHIT! FUCK! SHIT!" He's a yeller, this one. Can't really blame him. Throwing up sucks. But... really with the cursing? I say nothing, I figure it makes him feel better. After all, they did a Mythbusters about that; about how screaming obscenities makes painful things less painful, it's probably helping.

I see the shadow of hubs coming into the room so I grab my pillows and head to Child 2's bed. Hubs is on vacation now, he can deal with this tonight. Happy Father's Day, though! YAY!

I settle into Child 2's bed (which happens to be the most comfortable bed in the house because it has this awesome Tempur-Pedic mattress topper) and in comes Child 1, who squishes in next to me.

It's going to be a long night, isn't it?

The rest of the night drags on with me drifting in and out of consciousness, and every hour or so the house is filled with the sound of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! FUCK! SHIT! SHIT! FUCK!!!"

Does he really have to scream like that every time? I mean... I know it sucks to be sick like this, but come ON, man! The windows are open! THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD CAN HEAR YOU! And did I mention that my mother-in-law is in town and sleeping downstairs?

At some point the screaming and the cursing stopped, which I think was around the same time that my alarm went off and I had to get up for work.

Hubs and I were talking about it when I got home from work (and after I had taken a nice long nap). We agreed that there's nothing quite like listening to your 6 year old child curse and barf like a drunken sailor. "It made me realize I had failed as a parent," he said.

I guess we'll have to work on that.

---

My apologies to Child 2

"A haunted house, AHH! There's a ghost and a vampire. I'm out of here."

When I got pregnant with Child 1, I wanted a girl. Really badly. I wanted to tie her hair in pigtails and put cute little pink dresses on her. I knew nothing about boys, how do you clean a penis, anyway? I wanted a mini-me; a miniature version of myself that I could play with and have fun with and turn into an awesome adult eventually, no doubt!

When we found out he was a boy, I was disappointed, but I wasn't devastated. I knew we were going to have another one and that I would have another chance. No big deal.

Then when I got pregnant with Child 2, I really really really wanted a girl. I had spent Child 1's baby and toddlerhood watching as the girls his age did everything FIRST. They walked at 9 months, they fucking talked at 12 months. Poor little baby Child 1, who didn't start crawling until 11 months, would sit there in his playgroups while little baby girls would come crawling by, steal his toys, and then crawl away. I wanted a girl, dammit; this one is going to be a girl!

At the ultrasound I was convinced it would be a girl. I was so convinced, in fact, that when the technician cheerfully announced "it's a boy!" I said "WHAT? That can't be right. Really?" But, no. There was the little penis, she could see it clear as day.

I was crushed. I remember sitting in High Tech Burrito afterwards, crying; to Hubs' utter confusion. I knew you weren't supposed to have a preference, especially in Berkeley where people pop the babies out and are so joyful to see them that they don't even look at the nether regions until later. No, you're supposed to just be happy that you have a healthy baby, who cares what the sex is?

I cared. I cared what the sex was, and I wanted a goddamned girl, goddammit!  It took me weeks to stop being sad about it, but I also refused to feel guilty. Yes, I was happy my baby was healthy, but I still had a gender preference and so I allowed myself to mourn the loss of the girl I'd always wanted so that I could be over it in time for the birth. And eventually I did, and when he was born I was just happy to have a healthy baby. And besides, I knew how to clean a penis by that time; how the hell do you clean a vagina, anyway?

Tonight I was out for a walk and the streets of Berkeley were filled with 8th graders who were graduating from Middle School. I watched these girls walking around with these teeny little mini dresses and these high heels and all this makeup and I thought.... "man I'm glad I have boys."

I see the girls at the boys' school, and they're into the latest fashions, while I'm totally clueless (are Birkenstocks still in fashion?) They wear heels and have cell phones and carry purses and I think... "man I'm glad I have boys."

I read stories about teenage girls becoming total bitches when they hit the age of 12, about their parents worrying about them getting pregnant, about teenage girls being the worst people on the entire planet (I actually remember that) and I think... "man I'm glad I have boys."

And so, Child 2, my sweet boy, my actual mini-me, despite the penis: I'm sorry I cried when I found out you were a boy. I'm sorry it took me weeks to mourn your gender and the fact that you had the wrong parts. You are the sweetest, funniest, greatest kid I could ever ask for and I'm so glad you're a boy. I'm so glad you are you, because knowing what I know now, if I could go back and change things, I wouldn't want anything at all to have been any different. If you were a girl, you wouldn't be who you are, and who you are is exactly perfectly perfect.

And MAN am I glad I have boys!

---

This is what happens when I spend too much time at the computer

---

Out of the mouths of babes 33

Child 2: Mama, wouldn't it be funny if you started sleeping during the day instead of at night?

Me: I wish I could sleep during the day, but I have to get you guys to school, and then go to work, and then pick you up from school, during the day.

Child 2: Yeah, that's a pretty annoying life.

---

Two shameless brags. Because I can.

Today I will be bragging about my kids. I know, it's uncool to brag about your kids, but fuck it. Today I will be bragging about my kids. Because my kids are awesome.

BRAG 1

Child 1 is obsessed with calendars right now. Pictured above is a blank dry erase calendar that he has been filling out and erasing and filling out again. He'll ask us to pick a month and a year and then he'll fill it in. I'm sure it's 100% accurate every time, I don't actually check. Anyway, part of his calendar obsession has been talking about dates in the past, and things coming up and such (it reminds me of Griffin). This weekend was his tutor's birthday, and on Saturday he says "Today is April 28th, it's Karen's birthday." And then he asked me for my phone so that he could call her and wish her a happy birthday. He had to leave her a voicemail and it was his first one, so I helped him out. He said "This is Child 1. Happy Birthday. Goodbye."

So fucking adorable.

BRAG 2

I was doing homework with Child 2 last week and this was his math problem:

Since this is 1st grade math, I'm pretty sure the goal of having to explain his answer was for him to show that he understands that half of fruit bar A is more fruit bar than half of fruit bar B, so he's probably supposed to say "I want half of fruit bar A because there would be more for me to eat." Instead, he looks at it for a while and then he says "Fruit bar B." "Why?" I ask. "Because I don't like fruit bars."

It reminded me of the time when we were participating in the Infant Sibling Autism Study at the MIND Institute, he was maybe 18 months, and they gave him one of these things and showed him how it worked:

The test was to see how he handled being frustrated by something, because he wasn't supposed to be able to make the toy work. Instead, he made the toy work, and then played with it. I guess he failed that test.

By the way, are you reading Pish Posh? You should hang out there and show her some love. Also follow her on Twitter. SHE knows why.

---

Child 2 has a dream

This was Child 2's assignment for Martin Luther King Jr. day. It says "I hope people don't play inappropriate games."

---

We've created a monster

On Saturday I had to go pick up my car, which was in the shop because I regularly break pieces of it off. This time I had been getting gas and I put the gas tube-thingy in the gas hole-thingy (that's what she said) and I distinctly heard the sound of plastic snapping (that is NOT what she said). The next day I was unable to open the side door (it's a minivan) because I had broken off a sensor which tells the side door that the gas door is open, and both the gas door thingy and the van side door thingy wouldn't open.

I swear there's a point to this; really there is.

So, I had taken my car to the shop on Friday and they had to keep it overnight, and then on Saturday it was ready. Except I didn't feel like walking to go get it because I was hungover lazy tired really really busy that morning, so hubs said he would drive me.... and that we should leave the kids at home by themselves.

I was freaked out, as you can imagine; they've never been home alone before. But we were only going to be gone for 10 minutes, tops, they were both hanging around in their pajamas being lazy kids, and they were totally fine with it; actually they didn't seem to give much of a shit about the whole thing. Anyway, Child 1 is 10 and pretty responsible, all things considered, and you can leave 10 year olds alone in the house, right? (Do me a favor and just give me a heads up before you call CFS, would you? THANKS.)

So, we went through a huge list of do's and don'ts and rules and laws and all that good stuff (you don't open the front door for any reason; if the house caught on fire, go out the back door and go to the neighbor's house; if there was a bear attack, play dead; don't open the front door for any reason; etc.), and I showed Child 2 how to call me on my cell phone, in case of emergency (Child 1 already knows how to call Hubs); we practiced a few times and he had it down.

I swear there's a point to this; really there is.

So, we left and were only gone for about 10 minutes, and all was well in that time. Except? Now Child 2 knows how to call me on my cell phone. And call he does. (Yes. That was my point. See how important all that back story is? It not only makes the pointless story even more pointless, it adds another layer of inanity that you wouldn't have normally known of. YOU'RE WELCOME.)

He calls when he's downstairs and I'm upstairs to tell me that he's downstairs watching Too Cute.

He calls when he's upstairs and I'm downstairs to tell me that he's upstairs and I'm downstairs.

Saturday night he decided to sleep on the couch in the TV room so he called me from the TV room to tell me that he was sleeping on the couch in the TV room, even though we had just had that discussion face to face a few moments before.

Sunday afternoon I was out running errands and he called me to tell me that he was downstairs, Daddy was in the kitchen making breakfast, and when I got home could I please heat up some of that leftover pizza for him because he would probably be done eating breakfast but would still be hungry by the time I got home?

Later on Sunday afternoon I was out taking a walk and he called to remind me that I hadn't yet made the pizza that he had called me about a few hours before. "Remember how I called you and asked you to make me pizza? You didn't do that yet, so I'm calling to remind you."

He's not very good at talking on the phone, though. There are lots of long pauses and lots of discussion of cats and cat activity; much like when you talk to him in person, actually. He needs a lesson in phone etiquette, definitely.

Oh, I gotta go... somebody's calling me.....

---

OH MY GOD GO TO SLEEP

It's past 11:00pm and Child 2 is still very much awake, and running around.

Occasionally I can see him out of the corner of my eye running from his brother's room and back to his own. I yell at him but he laughs at me.

Earlier he yelled "Mama! I figured out how to bring my hamper into my bed using only a plastic sword!" And then he explained the process to me in excruciating detail.

Just now he informed me: "Mama. I gotta say, I need more love from you. We should spent more time together."

He has promised to stay in his bed, but he claims that he is allowed to get up under the following conditions:

• To pee
• To poop
• To get a drink of water
• If the room is on fire
• If he's being attacked by a bear
• If there's a monster
• If a bird is trying to rip his eyeballs out of their sockets

The other night he went into Child 1's backpack, took out all of his reading books... and then read them.

Now I can hear him whistling. Badly.

sigh

---

Out of the mouths of babes 32

It was last night and both kids are in bed; the lights are off but they are awake.

Child 2 is lying in his room singing to himself: "uh oh, I want some mooooore... uh oh, what are you waiting fooooorrr?"

From his room Child 1 yells, with a British accent: "STOP THAT BLASTED SINGING!"

---

Wordless Wednesday: Tornadoes!!!

---

How often does this kind of conversation happen in your house?

Child 2: hits cat with sock

Me: Please stop hitting the cat with your sock

Child 2: hits cat with sock

Me: WHAT did I just say??

Child 2: Don't hit the cat with my sock.

Me: And what did YOU do?

Child 2: I hit the cat with my sock.

Me: And is that okay?

Child 2: No

---

3 circle story maps will be the death of me. And snark.

Note: In an ongoing quest to get klout in snark, I will now be putting the word "snark" in every post title until my dream becomes a reality. And maybe even longer than that. Your twitter RTs are appreciated, but only for that reason.....

---

The 3 Circle Story Map is a tool of pure evil used to help 1st graders "deconstruct" the plots of the stories they read.

It involves reading a story and then breaking it down into 3 parts, which you write in the three circles. On the map.

The 3 Circle Story Map tears families apart. It makes women and children cry. It makes beloved pets run away from home out of pure fear. The devil uses 3 Circle Story Maps to teach the condemned how to deconstruct the plot of Hell Staff Meetings.

Here, I've made one for you, in order to deconstruct the plot of this post:

Here's another one which deconstructs the events of yesterday afternoon:

Incidentally, here's how I've deconstructed the plot of yesterday's Man vs. Wild. (I'm almost positive I'm doing this right):

---