The Art of Fighting

[Mike] Okay. No more questions. You guys were silent and then as soon as I sat down, I get inundated with questions about Wall-E – a movie you’ve seen at least 20 times.

[Me] That was your first mistake. Never sit in the same room with the kids when a movie is on.

[Mike] I thought I’d be a good Dad and be close to my kids and now my head hurts.

[Me] HA! HA! Sucker. Kaila – tell Dad to have a beer and chill out.

[Kaila] Daddy, have a beer and chill out. Does beer taste like Mt. Dew? (I love when she repeats what I say and adds her own spin. Always unpredictable, yet interesting.)

[Mike] Not exactly, Kaila.

[Madan] Dad, why did Wall-E get struck by lightning? Why is the umbrella like that? Why is Wall-E going there? What are Wall-E’s treads doing? How does he carry treasure? Who? What? When? Where? Why? How? Why? Who?

I’m waiting for Madan’s head to start spinning and then explode.

[Mike] Enough! You have six Wall-E books and we’ve been through it all. You know why everything happens. No more questions! No more talking! [Looks at me.]What are YOU laughing about?

[Me] You.

[Mike, exasperated.] I’ve read the same sentence in the WSJ ten times in a row.

[Me, incredulous.] Reading? You’re trying to read with kids in the room? Good luck with that.

[Madan – clearly oblivious to the conversation between his parents.] Dad look! That’s the Milky Way. I’ll have to recycle 10 bottles of milk to earn a zillion dollars to get there. Hey, look at the Axiom!!!! Hey Dad, look at those things. Even though they’re little, they’re so powerful. Isn’t that kind of weird?

[Mike. Still reading the same sentence in the WSJ.] Um, yeahhh.

I start laughing like an idiot.

[Mike] Are you writing down everything they say? Is this going on your blog?

D’OH! Caught red-handed. Luckily, Madan started up again so I didn’t have to answer. The boys had moved on to a verbal joust over the pronunciation of a robot’s name. I swear, this went on for five minutes.

[Mike] Mo.

[Madan] Ma!

[Mike] Mo.

[Madan]Ma!

[Mike] Mo.

If they said it any faster, it would sound like an art museum.

[Madan] Ma! DON’T CALL HIM MO!

[Mike] It’s spelled M-O. Where I come from, that says MO.

[Madan] IT’S MA! I DON’T THINK YOU KNOW HOW TO READ PROPERLY.

Mike is now consulting with Kaila. They agreed that Mo is the first name and Ma is the last name. They’re now calling the robot MoMa. Madan is close to tears and just stormed out of the room.

[Madan, pointing.] That is SO mean of you. STOP SAYING MO! Otherwise I’ll turn the volume down on the TV.

Eventually, Mike agreed to Madan’s demands and a cease-fire was negotiated. I hung up on Ban Ki-moon. (Sorry, Mr. Secretary-General.) The Morris family was peacefully sitting on the couch once again, watching Wall-E, until suddenly….

MOMA! MOMA! MOMA! MOMA!

Of course, Kailahmadinejad had to ruin it.