Hypothesis: My kids are undercover county sherriff's deputies.
Observation: Every time I'm in the car, I hear the following from Bubba: Mama, drive slower! Mama, are your lights on? Mama, it's raining! Turn on your wipers! Mama! That car (pronounced caw) is too close to us!
Hypothesis: My kids are fish.
Observation: Seriously, ya'll. With just two months of lessons under their belts, they're swimming on their own. Sure, they're "doin' it doggy style" with backfloats strapped around their middles. But they're not holding on. To anything.
Hypothesis: My kids should be able to time-travel.
Observation: They have no concept of time. As far as they're concerned, Christmas is tomorrow, Halloween is next week, and they were, as Miss-Miss claims, little, tiny babies a long, long time ago.
Hypothesis: My kids should be able to create wormholes in the space-time continuum and travel where ever they wish instantaneously because they have no concept of distance.
Observation: The following dialog:
J-man: Mama, where's our house?
Me: In Woodstock
J-man: But why can't we see it?
Me: Because we're 5 miles away! It's nowhere near us!
J-man: Aw, but why?
Hypothesis: I should be President, negotiating peace with Iran/North Korea/the entire world.
Observation: I haven't skewered my children and in turn, they have not killed each other.