Lost Keys, A Red Sharpie, and Why You Should Never Leave Your Kids Alone With Your Husband During "Movie Night Friday" in October

Item #1: Lost Keys

On Thursday, I was being a good wife. I had planned a sweet little fall picnic down at a local spot with trails, and leaves, and all sorts of fall bliss. And just as we were waiting for the phone call from Luke that he was on his way, we got it. Except he wasn't on his way. He was searching for his lost keys. (Second time this week, folks.) So, it was decided that I must drive 20 min. into Des Moines or spend the night alone. Drive I did.
And I hit traffic.
And I got lost.
So, 30 min. later at the front of the hospital I reach for my phone to tell Luke to get his behind out to the car.
No phone.
So I haul two sleeping children out of the car and carry them both all the way into the hospital. Then I ask a sweet old lady if I can borrow the phone.
She lets me.
And then I hear this...

Ring.....ring....ring...

"Don't Kill Me." -Luke

He had found the keys and was already home and resting comfortably on the couch.
In his defense, he did try to call.
13 times.

And also in his defense, we had a pretty awesome night in the end complete with an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet, a broken claw machine that kept spitting candy out at us, and a Halloween shop chuck-full of masks, creepy crawlies, and real-life men in head-to-toe Bigfoot outfits.
Does it make me a terrible mother that I love seeing my kids kind of uncomfortably frightened? (Not screaming, crying, panic-attic frightened. That I hate.) I just love the way they cling to me and for once in a store - they stay close.

Item #2: A Red Sharpie
I let my kids color with a red Sharpie and then I went back to bed.
Moral of the story:
Don't do that.
Anyone know how to get this off?!?

Item #3: Why You Should Never Leave Your Kids Alone With Your Husband During "Movie Night Fridays" in October
On my last and final night of work this week, I returned home to a startling discovery. My husband (who shall remain nameless to protect his identity) did something cRaZy. He let our children (who are technically still classified as TODDLERS) watch "Jumanji."
I have a confession.
That movie almost put me into therapy.
(That - and "What Lies Beneath." Creeps me out to even type it.)
Bats, being stuck in a jungle, enormous spiders, a lion in the attic, monkeys in the kitchen, rhinos on the loose, a manic hunter with a machine gun, a tropical storm, and crocodiles in your living room. Need I go on?
Surprisingly, the children are coping quite well.
Except Brooklyn did swear that the neighbor's (obnoxious) blaring music booming through the walls was the drums from Jumanji.

In all honesty, it was suspiciously similar.
And it gave me goose bumps.