Are You A Counter?

And your little angel has your number……. your magic number.  The largest number to the decimal second of time that you will might snap. 

You pace your numbers with a snarl, nostrils flared, hoping to fill them with the fear of the horns that will might sprout from your head when the winning power-ball number is reached is imagined.

What exactly does would happen if you actually reached the boiling point of mom?  Whether it be 3, 5, 10, or 172……what is the promised threatened reaction?

…maybe its the “time-out” chair and dunce hat, the famous electric paddle charging in every elementary Principal’s office, handcuffs and chains, electronic media starvation, or a dunking into utter darkness…(these are just suggestions  guesses, of course.)

I am not a counter.  But, I will admit that I am a yeller audibly stern.  But there is no magic number.  My little devils darlings can’t gage my boiling point on a regular well paced empty threat promise of disciplinary action.  Don’t get me wrong, I am full of empty threats!  I haven’t actually knocked anyone’s head off yet…

But, without the comforting threat of the number 4.75  I can go off like a bomb at any given moment!  (can you say bomb on the Internet?)

Take them by surprise, I say.  Keep them guessing like mom is a paranoid schizophrenic psychopath with an eerie calm made of egg shells.   Will this be the time she screams 11 times before she grabs the golf club time-out chair?  Or is she watching me now?  Waiting….and when I smack my little brother to get the finishing piece of my train track from his snotty palm will she knock me into next week  send me to my room?

So I ask again.  Are you a counter?  What is your magic number?  And what is your weapon of choice?  Or are you all bark without enough teeth to bite (..sort of like trying to gum them into submission.)?