My children & their antics:

It's a really gorgeous day here. It must be in the 70's, it's bright and sunny and you can hear the excited chatter of birds. The window's are all open and there is an awesome fresh breeze blowing the winter staleness out of the house. These are the days when Texas weather is much appreciated. So I'm cleaning, running the vacuum ect., and I'm watching the antics of my children, and thinking about some of the funny (or at times, not-so-funny) childhood moments I've witnessed in the last 2-3 days.

-We buy toilet paper in bulk, you know, the 20-24 packs. So I buy some on sale and restock the cabinet. Less then two minutes later Caden (aka Trouble) climbs in the large, empty bag and starts hopping around the living room like he's in a potato sack race. He even whooped and hollered and had the expression of strained competition on his face for good measure.

-I don't believe Bryson (B) can ask a question without some form of humor, flattery, drama, or all of the above. This includes flexing muscles, smootching the air and saying, "What can I say? Chicks dig me?" for the sole purpose of driving Tristen absolutely crazy. Today he acted faint & weak in the kitchen, insisting that a Pepsi would probably give him just the lift he needed. Try again.

A couple of hours later it was a charade for me to guess what he wanted. Think: "three," "little," and then him chomping away going, "gobble, gobble, gobble."

-Morgan was in my bathtub yesterday afternoon and I was folding towels on my bed. He asked for Buzz & Woody (Toy Story characters that he's fascinated with) and I told him I'd get them as soon as I was done. "Okay" by him. So I finish folding the towels and go into the bathroom to put them away. There he is, wiping his lips trying to hide the evidence of what he'd done. But some blood smeared over his tummy and all over his hand was a dead give-away. Morgan found out that mommy's razor is much sharper than his little plastic one that he & his brothers use to wipe the cool foam off of their faces. He did not cry. We wiped the blood away with a wash clothe and I checked out the damage - he had a nick on his top & bottom lip. I grabbed a little mirror and showed him his owie, and explained razors = injury. His response was a simple, "Oh."

-Halle is a nicely balanced girl. She loves horses, playing barbie & other make believe, but can get just as dirty and disgusting as any boy. She wears socks outside with no shoes and says, "I forgot," and I sigh when I'm folding her & Bryson's new socks with big 'ole holes in the heel. But she is still a girl and she loves shiny, sparkly, pretty things. On Wednesday she was waiting for me to braid her hair and I see her peeking in my jewelry box. She smiles, carefully lifts something and tells me I have an item similar to Gramma Sue's and she knows because she's organized Gramma's jewelry box twice! Halle, Halle!

-I head upstairs for something to see four boys fighting with toy swords made out of fiddle sticks, slaying each other and fainting from the wicked, vicious wounds. And then Morgan turns his sword on me. So, since I'm bigger & tougher I steal the sword and get him good.
A bit later it sounds like the sword fighting has turned into Harry Potter dueling as the sound of curses being yelled back & forth reverberates off my walls. (Swords made from fiddle sticks are very easily transformed into wands.)

-Morgan climbs in with Mom & Dad most nights. So two nights ago he climbs in, gets settled and then tells Dad he needs his sippy cup. (Hear the whip?) Dad obliges and scrambles across the house, in the dark. Returns to bed and hands it to Morgan. Dad lays down and Morgan guzzles some water. "Here you go." Hands the sippy back to Dad to lay on the floor beside the bed. (Morgan is very particular about this.) Morgan lays down, getting himself nice and comfy and a moment later Morgan says, "Woody's hat." Brian states firmly he is not finding Woody's hat and to go to sleep. (Mom wonders to herself "hmmm?" because she know's Morgan has daddy wrapped tighter around his finger than even Mom.) Morgan sits up in bed. Dad says, "LAY DOWN!" A moment passes...Morgan knows there's a line so he's treading carefully, he responds quietly, "no." Dad says, "Morgan, LAY DOWN." Another quiet but firm, "no." I hear the covers get thrown back and Dad grumbling about how ridiculous this is as he goes off into a dark house on a wild goose chase for Woody's hat. After searching three bedrooms he returns to our bed to find it was in fact only inches from Morgan.