Lack of Logic

Why always in the car?

In the backseat...
Hoo:  I'm going to stick this on you (faking an attack on Babe's arm with a birthday party tattoo that was, somehow, floating around the backseat since the party.)

Babe (clearly distressed and unwilling to be attacked):  NOOOOO.

I calmly explain that those tattoos don't work without water, a wash cloth AND a minute or so of pressure, a combination that wasn't present in the car.  My logic clearly is being overlooked because the battle in the backseat continues.

Then kicking and screaming ensues.  By me.  Telling the kids to stop kicking and screaming at each other.

You get the logic, no??

Then this...

Hoo (voice conveys complete disgust):  EWWWWW.  GROSS.

Babe (laughing)

Hoo (voice still conveying disgust, now mixed with whining):  Mom?!?!?!!?  He just SPIT on himself.  EWWWWW.  GROSS.

Babe (laughing)

Me:  That isn't going to work.  Stop spitting Babe.  That is gross.

There may or may not have been sounds of gagging by me and Hoo at this point.  Nickels is just laughing because, apparently, he and Babe are immune to the potential germ bomb being created in my back seat.

A few seconds later...
Babe (clearly excited):  It WORKED!

Apparently, the tattoo partially adhered on Babe's arm after a spit bath.  I don't know for sure because I couldn't even look at it after what had just happened.

Then Hoo decides that he is going to diddle with Babe.  He picks up some random (though, albeit, unused) napkin, probably from some drive-thru we visited over the summer, and starts trying to attack the tattoo.  My guess is he was doing some quick "sanitation" of the germ site.

This gets Babe screaming bloody murder.  Something about being preened by his brother makes him madder than a wet hen.

This has gotten so loud and so ridiculous, that my shotgun-riding, almost teenager, Nickels looks at me and sums it up well enough that the whole thing now has a bow on it:  "That (referring to the screaming) coming from the kid who just SPIT on his own arm?"

I'm not entirely sure, but I think this whole thing came full circle in a very warped, extremely loud, kind of way.

And, yes, in case you are wondering, I am accepting donations of glove-box-size Purell.