Every family has their dynamic.  Mine happens to be we all like to tell each other what to do, and micro-manage to the point of near insanity.  The four of us also happen to have the same compulsion of filling the vacuum of silence and compete to dominate conversations.  So when you get us together there is little quite, and a lot of inserting opinions and orders.

Example:

My brother Laszlo: “Here, Munch, have some Apple.”

Toni: “Munch, we are going to go night night soon and take a nap.”

My brother Laszlo: “But don’t you think she should finish her apple?”

My Dad: “Now Laszlo don’t interfere with the mother’s word.”

Toni: “Dad, no need to interject yourself.  Relax.  It is fine.  She can eat her apple and then I can bring her to nap.  I just want her to get emotionally prepared.”

My brother Laszlo: “Here you go Munch, here is more apple.”

My Dad: “Hmmmmmmm Laszlo….”

My brother Laszlo: “What, what’s the matter?”

My Dad: “Nothing, its nothing.”

My brother Laszlo: “No what is it?”

My Dad: “Well, I don’t want to interfere.”

Toni: “What?”

My brother Laszlo: “Dad what is it, is it something about they way I am feeding her apple? Should I not give her the skin?”

Toni: “The skin is fine, she can eat the skin.  Give her the goddamn skin.”

Dad: “No its not the skin, its just the pacing.  I think you are feeding her the apples too fast.”

Toni: “Seriously Dad, you don’t have to tell him what to do.”

My brother Laszlo: “No Toni, he is probably right.”

This type of relating to each other is just how we roll, hyper opinionated, always meddling, and excessively verbal about our thoughts.  You add my mother to the picture and then things get really wild.

My Mom: “Laszlo eat your rice faster, you are holding us all up to have dessert.”

Toni: “No he is not Mom, he can just eat his rice and then have his dessert when he wants later.  He can catch up.”

My Dad: “Laszlo careful of how you are scooping the rice.”

My brother Laszlo: “Dad, I am pretty sure I know how to scoop rice.”

My Mom: “You are getting rice on the table.  I am going to go get a sponge to clean it.”

Toni: “Seriously Mom, you don’t have to clean it right now, lets just have dessert.”

My Mom: “I can’t eat dessert with messy rice on the table. It will just take a second.”

My Dad: “Toni, let your mom clean the rice if she wants.”

The irony of this is that I never realized that I would spawn a being that would put us all to shame in our idiosyncrasies.  If you take every one of our compulsive traits, The Munch has them amplified.  She is not only the boss of all of us, but she has learned quickly how to control conversations, tell us how to live our lives, and is also a compulsive cleaner.

These are actual sentences that came out of the Munch’s Mouth these past few days with the family.  (*She calls my mom  Mana, and my dad Baba)

Munchisms Christmas Conversations:

“Mamma can you put my baby over there? But don’t sit over there.  Sit there.  And don’t take her paci out of her mouth.”

“Mana will you put this dress on the baby? But not that dress. Noooooo, not that dress.  This dress.  And will you sit on the floor please?”

“Uncle Laszlo tell me once upon a time story.  Will you tell it again?  Again.  Tell it one more time.  One last time.  Tell another once upon a time story.” (* Took up 40 min of dinner-time hearing these stories).

“Baba, can you bring my cradle up stairs.  Then can you bring my other bed up stairs.  Can you bring the highchair up stairs too? Can you put it right here? No not there, here? Can you go downstairs and work now?”

“Mamma drink this coconut water.  Baby you drink coconut water too.  Drink it.  DRINK IT NOW! OPEN IT!”

“We are having cake? We need to sing the happy birthday song.  WE HAVE TO SING HAPPY BIRTHDAY SONG AGAIN!” (*Sang happy birthday to Baby Jesus).

“Mamma can you clean up this oatmeal? CAN YOU CLEAN UP THE OATMEAL NOW! STOP DANCING!!!!! CLEAN UP THE OATMEAL NOW! IT IS DIRTY Nooo don’t clean it like that. CLEAN IT BETTER!!”

“No Uncle Laszlo I don’t want to see Santa.  He is scary.  Like Mr. McGreggor.  In Peter Rabbit.  Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottentail were good bunnies.  But not Peter.  He was naughty.  But you are not naughty.  I AM SCARED OF MR. MCGREGGOR.  WAHHHHHHHHH!”

“Baba can you read Peter Rabbit to me? No not that one.  That one.  Can you read it from the beginning?  No, not like that.  From the beginning.”