The following occurs between 7:30 and 8:00 am:
Enter kitchen to discover that the $%#@! mites are back, and have invaded the kitchen table, feasting on the tiny crumbs in the middle where the table leaf would go. While scrubbing all table surfaces, get report in from Flash (my 6 yr old) that there is a WASP in the house. Shoo kids into my bedroom and prepare to attack. Wait until he (yes, I'm sure he was a he) goes behind the roman blinds. Whack the crap out of him with broom and paperback copy of "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone". Put his carcass in a cup, take it outside and deposit him on the nearest fire ant pile (cruel? no, he was dead anyway... this just ensures that he, uhh... returns to the fertile soil). Return to scrubbing table. Put tablecloth on top to prevent further crumb issues. Kill mites; mop kitchen floor. Boys come into kitchen for Breakfast Round 2. Make breakfast for them. Pour cranberry juice all around. Super Q spills his IMMEDIATELY. Cringe. Super Q gets upset because I made a face and declares "I don't yike eddy-buddy (everybody)." Pour new juice, this time in sippy cup. Retreat to computer to blog the whole thing. Hear suspiciously light-saber-like noises in other room. Save blog entry and return to the trenches.