Posts Tagged ‘childhood’

Yesterday evening we left all of the boys home and went to McKayla’s “Meet your teacher night” at high school. First off, let me tell you, I think a sadist made her class schedule.  She goes from one end of the first floor, to the other end of the third floor, then down to the second and back up to the third. Then way out to the photography class which isn’t even in the main building.  I think the art department might be the bastard step child of the high school.  Then back to the gym.  I’m pretty sure she spends the entirety of her passing periods running at full speed.

While Dave and I reinacted her day, we left the boys with clear instructions:

  • Don’t kill each other (always a good blanket instruction)
  • Clean the kitchen as a team (otherwise lots of yelling ensues, I’m pretty sure lots of yelling ensued anyways
  • When you are done you may watch a movie.

I called about half way through her schedule to check up on them.  The phone was picked up and there were no sounds of duress in the background, which is always a good sign.  They were all doing well and settling into a riveting rewatch of Jimmy Neutron.

When we opened the door I found this:


Someone put dish soap in the dishwasher. This can’t compare with Dave’s childhood dishwashing fiasco, which includes waste high bubbles that amazingly get deeper and taller with every telling.  Maybe modern Dawn Soap doesn’t have the bubbling power of the 1980s version.

It was entertaining and funny and most importantly it was being cleaned up when I got home.

At least the floor was washed, albeit with someone’s feet, but it was washed.  Sometimes that’s all you can ask for.

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reading in bed

Every night Nate needs us to leave the light on for “just 5 more minutes”.  He says its because he’s terrified of the dark.   We indulge him, because he’s the baby, the last in the line of our progeny.  What has morphed out of fear is a love for books.

He’s not allowed to play or have toys in his bed, but how can I say no to a book?  I can’t.  All the kids know that I’m a sucker for the “just one more chapter” or “just 10 more minutes”.  Everyone but the little ones has a small lamp attached to their beds and I don’t control when it goes off.  For all I know they are reading until 1am.  And that’s fine with me.  Morning crankies are dispelled by earlier bedtimes and naps.

Every night when I go to turn off the light in the twins’ room on my way to bed, I find him curled up with a pile of books.  This is how I know he’s mine.

Pretty soon the picture books will morph into easy readers and chapter books.  The pile will get smaller as the books become longer.  Hopefully though, his love of reading won’t.

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