We went out to eat. At a restaurant. With the three boys. At night. And I was struggling with complete irritation over not wanting to chase them all over the restaurant and correct etiquette and "don't stick your hands in the ice water" and "stop waving around the chopsticks"... but you know that's all they wanted to do.
Sam: *getting up from the table to go to the bathroom* “Mom- keep an eye out on my food.” *turns around* *stops* *turns back around* “And mom... DON’T EAT MY FOOD!!” Evidently, I am the protagonist and antagonist in this story. An antihero, if you will. I wear many hats.
*Pulling up in the car to pick up babysitter* Josh: “Mom, I know something.” Me: “What’s that?” Josh: “When you’re tired & you just can’t handle us boys anymore, we go get Emme.” ..... Me: “First of all *JOSHUA*, it takes a village. Second of all.... Crap. They’re on to me.
Tonight we were talking about Josh's first experience at sports camp: Me: "Hey Josh, tell us about camp... you tried lots of different sports right? What did you think about them?" "What did you think about basketball?" Him: "Nope." Me: "Okaaaay.... what did you think about soccer?" Him: "Nope." Me: *Sighing in resignation* "Ok... how about baseball?" Him: "Yep." *For the record, my little five-year-old marched into the camp, picked up a basketball for the first time and proceeded to make basket after basket on a 10 foot rim*