Bunch

When they do wake up, they begin to run around the apartment and argue over who goes to the toilet first. Today Olya wins. While the sleepy daughter goes to sleep, sitting on the toilet, Zhenka rummaging in the refrigerator, looking for ways to replace the hated oatmeal. Finding nothing, grumbles:
- Where is the sausage? Did they eat everything yesterday? And the cheese is over too! Even a sandwich has nothing to do! What am I going to take to school? Again cutlets, then to stink garlic?

https://www.buzzfeed.com/bobby77/the-bouvier-affair-the-plot-thickens-1g0ql
I silently drink coffee without sugar, watching my husband, who spilled tea on the floor and stepped into it with his bare foot. I do not want to swear, but still it is worth to recoup, but they will sit on my head.
- Boris, take a rag and wipe the puddle, and you, Zhenka, while you take out the trash can.
“Why me again?” - the son is indignant and, having received no answer, he rushes to the toilet in order to disembark the door, behind which the sister peacefully slumbers.

Five minutes later Olya appears in the kitchen. Nestling in front of me, looking at the oatmeal in disgust. Then he reports that she has torn her tights, and she has no others.
- You decided to ruin us ?! - I grumble. - This is the third tights for the week!
“I'm not on purpose,” she shrugs irritably. - But I can go to school in jeans. Agree?
“It’s not you who should ask me, but the class teacher.” Although today there is still no choice - I hopelessly wave my hand. “Okay, you go to school in jeans.”
- cool! - the daughter rejoices. - And can I then wear your green blouse?
- What kind of fantasy? - I snort indignantly. - She's great to you.
“Nothing of the kind,” Olka argues with me. - I once wore it. When you and dad went to Turkey to rest.
- Well, you know! Without asking?!
- Not at all! I asked granny. She allowed.

I expressly look at my husband, but I still do not dare to say out loud what I think of his mother. By the way, he didn’t wipe the puddle, and now the son who has returned to the kitchen has got into it. Raising his leg, Eugene shakes his leg and frowns in disgust:
- Heck! Just clean socks put on. The latter, by the way!

And then I can not stand it and literally explode:
- Well, you know! I didn't hire you as maids. We must take care of ourselves at this age. For your information, I have been washing clothes myself since eight years old. And cleaning the apartment did. And you do not interrogate the garbage bin! Three drone on my neck!
- Why three? - offended muttered husband. - Personally, I wash my socks. And always buy what you say.
- Well, two! - I agree graciously, realizing that otherwise he may refuse to take me to work, and then he will have to drag along in a crowded subway.
“I am not a drone either,” said daughter, choking on cereal. - I just have no time for homework. Because they ask a lot! You want me to study well, right? So then what could be the claim?
- Well, gives, - smiles Zhenya. - There is no time left, of course! And she herself for three hours with her friends on the phone or on Skype is bursting. And e-mailed with the suitors!
- And you climb on porn sites!
- I? - blushing, yelling Zhenya. - What are you lying, Olka!

I pound my fist on the table:
- All! Both were silent! Arranged skirmish early in the morning. It is better to go to collect portfolios, and then you will be late for school.
“Why is she? “Why is he?” The children grumble discontentedly, but they still obey the order and leave the kitchen in single file.
- You also hurry, - I say to my husband. “You take me to work, otherwise I’ll wet my legs in such a rain.”
“Good,” the spouse nods. “But for this you will allow me to go to the sauna with my friends on Saturday.”
- Where?! No, no and NO!
- Do not let go? OK, as you want. Then you will take the subway ...

It becomes clear that bargaining is irrelevant. We'll have to allow ...
At work, a madhouse, so no return home. Entering the kitchen, I see a terrible picture: the ceiling and the wallpaper on the walls in some sticky spots, the window is painted with strange patterns.
- What is it? - I threateningly ask my daughter standing behind her back.
“Condensed milk,” sighed guiltily, explains Olga. - You see, I wanted to surprise you and make choux pastries ... I cooked condensed milk in a jar on an open fire, and it exploded ... Forgive me ... Only this is not all.

My heart breaks and falls.
- Someone hurt, huh? Oh my God! Zhenka ?!
- No, - in a hurry to calm her daughter. - That is, he also distinguished himself, but not as dramatically as I am.
- In what sense? "
- Well, oh ... oh-oh ... In general, look into the washing machine.

Heck! It turns out that after my morning notation, the son decided to take the initiative and arrange the washing-up, loaded everything he found in the laundry basket into the car, and set the temperature control to 90 degrees. Trying not to cry, I disassemble the faded linen and try to determine the size of the damage.
“Never mind,” I convince myself. - Children as children - want to help ...