Mommy monkey hangs a plastic basketball hoop on the door to the foyer.  The once  stately entrance to their center hall colonial is now officially a gymnasium.  Apparently she’s willing to do anything to keep the monkeys from tearing apart the couches again.  What could possible go wrong?

“Okay, guys!  Go ahead and practice, but if anyone hits the chandelier its -”  A basketball flies by mom’s head and bounces off the ceiling.

Sigh. “No seriously.  You have to be care-”

“A-HA!”  A seven-year-old pelts his little brother in the back with the little orange ball.

“-ful!  Dude!  This is not dodge ball. You’re supposed to -”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!” the four-year-old tackles him into the couch.

“GUYS!  Basketball is not a contact sport!”

The deaf monkeys are now just chasing each other around the living room.  Again.

With an exasperated growl, mommy snatches a basketball away from one of them as they zip by and takes a shot. “Ha! Two points.”

They freeze.

“Hey, no fair!” the little one grabs his ball back.

“Hey, Mom. Want to see me make a shot?”

“Sure, honey.”  Is it too early for wine?

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