Love and Life

Enjoyed my boys more than usual tonight. It was another "boys cook" night (hamburger helper, grapes, garlic toast, S'more dip, and carrots, of course). Calvin and Max had a weird galactic music (from this book's CD) dance party in our bedroom in front of the mirror. Reed filled us in on all the social gems from middle school. Apparently every boy in 5th grade has a girlfriend. Max recently told us that he has two! Not Calvin, though. Homeboy is holding strong as a bachelor.

Calvin: I got another stupid note this year! I don't know why Mrs. Johnson has us do those notes every year. I've gotten one three years in a row!

(Mrs. Johnson is the counselor, whom Calvin really likes. Apparently, though, he's not a fan of the self-esteem building activity she does where the students go around and write compliments on each other's papers)

Me: What was the note?

C: (after much hemming and hawing, hiding under the table and generally dodging the question) "I like you!"

Me: Well, maybe it was a boy who just likes you because you're a friend.

C: It was pink!

Reed:  You can't argue with that.

C: There were only three people using pink and it was in NEAT handwriting! (strongest evidence for NOT a boy)

R: Calvin told me that he acts stupid so that no girls will like him.

Great strategy, bud. Now let's see if you can get Reeco Suave and Two-timing Teddy to start acting stupid, too...

Seven

My little man is not so little.

He lost his tooth just before his birthday. Literally. It rolled down the drain. 

So he made a fake tooth for the tooth fairy, who was apparently off duty that night, which resulted in tears the next morning and a sneaky maneuver (even though he's always known who the tooth fairy is, we pretend for the fun of it) to save the day. My favorite thing about these pictures? The Optimus Prime costume. That's our boy. Always in some super hero get-up, conquering the world. And he believes he can, too. He can do anything in his mind. When we talk about what to do in case of bad guys, brothers drowning, or other emergencies, he always argues with us that yes he CAN beat up the bad guy and/or pull Max off the bottom of the deep end (I just realized how morbid we are!). In fact, he argues with us about EVERY.THIN.G. Usually his argument consists of a) he knows more than us and/or b) he can do more than we think he can. In his mind, there is nothing this stubborn, confident little dude can't do. 

So, at his birthday party, he wanted to decorate his own cake--and cookies, too, he decided. I'm a little OCD and the cake and cookies have always kinda been my baby, so it wasn't easy for me to let go. First, I had him do the design and told him I would execute it. He plan involved a detailed diagram of the cake - blue frosting, then "a layer of golden sugar and then ANOTHER layer of blue frosting so you can't see the golden sugar, then the Hero Factory H on top with golden icing and then everyone will bite into the cake and be like, 'What! There's even more sugar inside!'" I had to nix the golden sugar, but I told him I could do the H logo. Then, on the day of the party, he decided he wanted to frost it.

This is what he was going for, but he wanted lightning bolts coming out the side.

 

This is what he piped.

Nailed it.

This boy may not be a cake boss (yet - he's got a pretty good start, though), but I love that he believes he can do anything. And if he'll tack on "with Christ" to that belief, he'll be right!

A Tale of Two Sickies

A bug has swept through our household, illustrating what we already knew -- these kids are like night and day. Consider:

Sickie A:

Is “sick” off and on for three weeks.

Sickie B:

Is “sick” only when they are currently throwing up - or don’t feel like going to summer school (never mind that this happened days before the first physical symptoms). 

Sickie A:

Misses two days of school, has nurse call me to pick him up early another day, and skips several of brother’s T-ball games.

Sickie B:

Misses a day of school and doesn’t understand why he isn’t allowed to play in his T-ball game that night.

Sickie A:

Spends his sick days home laying around moping, reading, not eating, and asking “How much longer will my stomach hurt?” 

Sickie B:

After vomiting and watery diarrhea, rallies and proceeds to don a Batman costume and attack his baby brother with plastic balls. Is unfazed by the series of toot-squirts that follow - other than expressing anger the “I didn’t have ANY warning!” and disappointment that his Wolverine jumpsuit has to go in the washer. 

Sickie A:

Carries a barf bucket with him EVERYwhere he goes for days after his last barf incident, “just in case.”

Sickie B:

Throws up in bed, doesn’t tell a soul, rolls around in it all night, then gets mad when I make him take a shower the next morning.

Bomb Fire

There is a huge stack of sticks on our porch right now. It looks like one of our boys is trying to start a bonfire, but really, it's Calvin's arsenal for a bonfire. But not to burn, mind you. No, these sticks are to beat up a girl.

Calvin's "second-best friend" (I asked. Reed is his best -- heart melting!) invited him to a bonfire party. A little girl in their class said she was coming to the little boys' party "just to beat him up." Calvin was NOT going to stand for that. So, he found a stick on the playground (or somewhere) after school and stashed it by the front door of the school to take home so he'd have a weapon to protect his friend. Then when we got home, he also hauled out his alarmingly huge stick weapon collection from its hiding spot outside. They were waiting on the porch for him to load up and take to the party. At first, I thought his protectiveness was cute and funny. But he was getting pretty serious about this brawl and kept talking about it, so we had to kill his buzz and inform him of the fact that no sticks would be accompanying us to the bonfire and, bully or no bully, he would not be hitting any little girls with sticks. "I'm not gonna hit her! I'm just gonna scare her!" he insisted. I can see that. I'm a little scared when I check out the arsenal! When it was time to leave, he begged to take "just one" of his weapons. Then, when I delayed our departure a few minutes, he was adamant that we had to go. The bully could already be there!

Reed stayed home, due to ralphing all over the bed, two pillows, and 12 blankets (I counted) the night before. Max came along, excited about going to the "fire bomb." Calvin corrected him in his best "you idiot!" voice. "It's not a fire bomb, Max!... It's a bomb fire."

When we arrived at the bomb fire, I turned around to unbuckle Max. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Calvin trying to hide something in his pants. It was a wooden splinter the size of a dagger. Look out, Ladies. Nobody messes with this guy's second-best friend!

When the Cats Are Away...

I was just thinking the other day how great it is that I can now leave the boys in the house alone for a little while to help Ryan outside. We've had to make a few trips into the pasture this winter to load and unload hay or get firewood and every time the boys have quietly played (or napped) inside, hardly noticing we were gone.

Today? Not so much.

I was walking back to the house when I heard outside voices. Calvin and Max were banging away at their favorite root ball with their favorite stick weapons. When I asked who gave them permission to come outside, Calvin informed me that he just came out to get Max inside. Apparently. Then, he began to tattle on Max for his other transgression: breaking Daddy's hunting light. Then, it slowly came out that Calvin maaaaay have "been a part of it" because he was pulling on the cord to get it away from Max. While hashing out the details, big brother pushed open a window to holler out what he'd been up to.

A few months ago my mom passed us down a cool, divided hamper. Now, may it R.I.P. cuz it totally did when Reed decided it would make a great hide-and-seek spot. He'd been using his engineering skills to put the PVC-type construction back together. He'd done pretty decent job, though two of the wheels were on top. But the cloth lining was torn beyond repair and one of the rods was bent, so the offender now has to use his hard-earned allowance money to pay for a replacement. His little brother coughed up $1 "and two of those circle moneys that aren't a dollar, but four of them make a dollar" so Reed wouldn't have to use all of his money. How can I want to kill them and kiss them at the same time!

This chain of events follows a supremely frustrating church excursion wherein Max had a screaming time-out in the bathroom alcove and Calvin earned five post-church spankings.

I just got a text. We have another snow day tomorrow. I may be R.I.P.ing before the day's over.

Back Among the Living

We ventured back out into public today.  And, boy, could you tell the boys had been cooped up for a week! Here are the highlights from our excursion to the "big city" to hang out with my sister and her hubs (and, against our better judgement, to eat out at a restaurant):

- I was proud of myself for busting Calvin's brown shirt/brown pants not-quite-matching combo (he's taken to putting his coat on pre-breakfast, resulting in some interesting revelations at school lately).
- I realized too late that I hadn't busted him for leaving his jammie pants on under his pants.
- When I expressed dismay that he'd been wearing his jammies for, like, 24 hrs straight (recall that we Laytons only dress when absolutely necessary), he corrected me by informing me that he's been wearing them, "For, like, four days."
- We jumped out of the car straight into the snow for a quick romp to get good and wet before we entered the carpeted house.
- Three little jumping beans greeted their aunt, uncle, and hyperactive puppy and didn't stop bouncing for a good hour, despite constant barking from parents, aunt, and puppy.
- Three little voices TALKED LIKE THIS THE ENTIRE TIME WE ATE AT THE RESTAURANT.
- After practice and a pep talk Reed and Calvin placed their own semi-complicated orders like champs, causing Aunt Tavia to cry. She's totally turning into our mother. (I've been there for ten years...)
- Max lightened the mood when he placed his order. Instead of ordering a meal, he communicated his desire for chocolate milk instead of white. This lead the waiter to mention chocolate pancakes, which took his mind completely off of the previously decided-upon Lil' Farmer's Breakfast. When I whispered a reminder of his order to him, he began arguing with me. He calmed down when we settled on pancakes and sausage and made his order like a big boy, looking the waiter in the eyes and speaking clearly. Until the man asked for clarification on what kind of sausage. Then he just took a big lick of milk that had spilled on the menu.
- Calvin engaged his twisty straw in an exciting knife fight, complete with sound effects.
- While stopped at a traffic light, Calvin shot who-knows-how-many motorists with his 6-shooter before we realized what he was doing.
- We had a great time with my sister and brother-in-law back at their house -- after we busted out the iphones and Legos.

Thpeech Impedimentth

All three of our boys have had minor speech impediments. I have the cutest video of me trying to help Reed practice his Rs and Ls around age two.

R: My name is Weed James Wayton.
M: My name is Rrrreeed James Lllllayton.
R: (in a "Silly Mommy" voice) You're not.
M: Can you say, "My name is Rrrreeeed James Llllayton?"
R: You're not Weed James Wayton.

But the boy worked hard and had his name back probably by age three or four. Max, too, had to work on his Ls. He's already fixed those. His last sound to fix is "th" (as in "Do you want dis one or dat one?) He can do it, and will when we remind him. It's just not a habit yet.

And then there's Calvin... His lisp combined with his difficult personality has made him our most challenging speech student. We tried video taping him. Wouldn't cooperate. We tried putting frosting, peanut butter, and honey up where his tongue was supposed to be when he makes the S sound. He'd just lick it and say, "Thuper!" We tried correcting him. He'd throw a fit or avoid s words all together. So, when he started kindergarten, I asked our speech teacher if she would please pull him. She said his sound wasn't a major concern for his age, but she could still work with him based on parent request. We'd spent the whole year before telling him that he really needed to practice or he'd have to miss out on center time to go to speech class. We never wanted him to feel bad about his speech, but we also knew his biggest impediment was his stubborn personality! Then, when it became clear that he wasn't going to have it fixed, I had to spin it around and make speech class seem cool. It was. The speech teacher reported to me that he performed his S's perfectly in her presence and loved the games she played with the kids. She had also learned, through a few rousing games of Go Fish, that he is extremely competitive. So, she challenged him to be the first student to graduate from speech, laying out a collection of stuffed animal prize options and promising ice cream at his graduation "ceremony." That struck a chord. He diligently pronounced every word correctly as he told me about the challenge that day. He had his eye on a ssssnow tiger (actually a white cat, but whatever works) and there was only one and HE was going to get it. And he did better. He would let us stop him and have him repeat words without too much fuss (thometimes). But it still wasn't a habit.

So, we upped the ante at home. We started a competition between him and Max. Every time Max said "th" instead of "d" he'd get a point. We could remind and correct him, since he's two. Every time Calvin said a good "S" he'd get a point, but if he'd say a bad one, he'd lose a point. The winner would get a treat at the end of the day. We heard a lot of, "I'm ssssuper excccited to get ssssso many pointssss thisssss day, guysssss." Then, Reed would get Max to say, "This, this, this, this, this, this." It was quite annoying. But I think it might have been the tipping point. A few weeks after we started the game, we'd pretty much forgotten to keep track. The tally charts were still out, but mainly because our house was a wreck. But I noticed just this past weekend that he was saying every S correctly - or close. And it was starting to be more effortless. He's done it all week, so I think it's gonna stick. We've bragged on our stubborn little guy and told him we'll be talking to his speech teacher when we go back. He can already taste the ice cream.

This boy! The one we had to bribe with "Starbur" to potty train and with 13 other treats to talk correctly. I wonder how much he'll cost us in sugar and petty cash by the time he graduates from high school!

Better than Legos

Sometimes I wonder if anything we say will ever get through the thick little skulls of our children. We try to "train up our children in the way they should go," and it feels like we're constantly teaching little lessons about kindness, sharing, generosity, and gratefulness. And then Christmas happens and it's like they've never even heard of those concepts!

The boys had a slumber party in one bed on Christmas eve and were up so late giggling that they let us sleep in to a decently reasonable hour, as far as Christmas mornings are concerned.

They enthusiastically opened their presents, then spent the rest of the morning feverishly assembling their favorite gifts, the Lego sets they'd received.

The boys were so thrilled with the Legopalooza at our house, that one little gentleman didn't even want to leave to go to the Layton Christmas that afternoon. He was whining that he wouldn't get any Legos there. Insert big speech about nobody owing you any gifts at all, being grateful, Christmas is about Jesus, not you, etc. etc. In one ear and out the other, with a quick trip around the eyes to make them roll. But he got over it, put on a good face, and ended up opening some great  presents, including a Lego set. And he seemed to be genuinely grateful for and happy about all of his new loot. But when I asked the brothers to pose in their new deer hunting get-up, this is what I got:

A mini political statement? Surely not!

Fast forward to the Raney Christmas. When Uncle Trey showed the boys around the playroom, occupied by his cousins, a 2 year-old girl and a 6 week-old baby boy, they found a vanity, dress up clothes, and a million baby dolls and accessories. Calvin took a quick tour of the joint, then announced, "Can we open presents now?" I coulda killed him!

But a few days later, Mr. Selfish redeemed himself and all three boys gave me hope that maybe a little of our instruction is sinking in. My dad had a significant birthday which I will not divulge (I'll just say that it rhymes with pixty). We threw him a little party and after he opened presents, he took the opportunity to share his heart with his family. He told us about how he went to a Bible study with someone years ago and learned about Jesus. When Max heard that name, he piped up with, "Jesus can save you!" Interrupting? Yes, but also true--and cute. My dad (a.k.a. Papa) described how when he accepted Christ he literally felt a warmth crawl up his body and settle in his heart, to which Reed interjected, "That must've been the Holy Spirit!" (I gotta admit--I was sorta bustin' my Sunday-school-teacher-mom buttons right then...) Then he went on to share that from that moment on he knew that God was real. Then, he said that God has communicated to him at various times in his life, including when he told him to marry Mimi. Calvin had to get his two cents in to this speech, so he said, "I'm glad He told you that, cuz' (big eyes and big finger point to Mommy)," which of course elicited an explanation by Reed and random chatter by Max. After the speaker got his audience back under control, he warned us that Satan is spreading two big lies: that God isn't real and that the Bible can't be trusted. Then he encouraged us to seek God and try to learn more about him because He's real and He loves us. "So, I guess that's my gift to you," he concluded. And how did my selfish, toy-obsessed child reply? He perked right up and said, "That's better than Legos!"

That'll preach.

I Mean Business

This post may land me a call to DFS, but if they do take my kids - one in particular - I'm sure it won't take long before they come back apologizing that my actions were completely justifiable.

We were driving home and I was talking to my sister on the phone. When I hit the point of the drive where I lose cell service, I pulled over and put it in park. We were on the rarely-traveled gravel less than a mile from our house. A few members of the peanut gallery began whining that they wanted to go home and how much longer would I be on the phone and why did we have to stop. I warned them to shut up or else please be quiet. Twice. Then, Mr. Wild rudely said, "I wish I could just walk home!" So, I told him to do it. He immediately protested. I insisted he get out of the car, then finished the convo with my sister, which at this point was just me describing what he was doing outside (not walking, btw) and her laughing hysterically. When I hung up, I got out of the van and told him that he would have to walk to the intersection of the next gravel road (about 200 meters ahead) and then he could get in and try again. I drove ahead of him, close enough that he could see me, but far enough that he couldn't trip and get run over by me. He ran frantically, crying the whole way. I was feeling pretty bad when we reached the intersection, because I knew the experience had scared him. When he got in the car, I drove on, giving a gentle explanation of how he had to start listening and obeying and how sometimes mom had to do things to show that she is serious. I apologized for scaring him and summarized by asking, "But you have to know who the boss is. I am the boss. Who is not the boss?" In true form, he replied in a snarky tone, "Max." We were just a hill away from home at this point, so I screeched the brakes and ordered him again, "Get out!" He cried and all-but refused to, but eventually he had no choice. And this is what I watched in my rear view mirror as we creeped over the final hill to our home. Should I have been driving and taking pictures of my terrified tyrant? In the name of future blackmail pictures, I say yes!

Just Another Day...

Today:

- When I dropped my students off for art class, the teacher greeted me with "So... Calvin's fun!" It was meant as a compliment, not an opening line for a bad report like I assumed. Whew! Nine days into the year and no bad reports (on Calvin - I know every evil deed that occurs in his classroom, though, thanks to my proud little informant. The day he fails to give a run-down of who got in trouble is the day I'll ask his teacher how he's doing.)

- Calvin has learned how to roll his eyes. He used the skill on his brothers at least twice on the way home from school. I gave a lecture about respect, to which he responded, "But I LIKE to roll my eyes." (cue Mommy eye roll)

- Calvin and Reed struck a bargain that made my teacher-heart proud. Calvin agreed to let Reed color his coloring page if Reed would pay up by reading "half of the Pig Pancake story" out loud to him. He happily read a few pages, until Calvin cut him off with, "That's enough."

- Max had another accident-free day! That makes four in the last week! I'm seeing the light at the end of the diapered tunnel! (Though I have a feeling I'll still be stuck in the Good Nights tunnel for quite some time...)

- The boys decided to have a big wrestling/boxing/Mixed Martial Arts/free-for-all match. Calvin won, because he's "had the hiccups, and Mrs. Payne says her mom used to think that makes you grow." (?) Then, they decided to train for a rematch. Calvin asked me over and over for new "extra-cises" to do to "get stronger." They were pumping baby iron, doing sit-ups,  jogging laps, and doing squat jumps in preparation for the big fight. Then, they forgot about the rematch and ended up playing Legos.

- Someone other than me had to hose off the concrete. The mess was due, not to chicken transgressions, but to their own. Lesson learned? Don't try to pee on puppies, especially if they run onto the porch.


Just another day in mi vida loca.

Big Day

 Today was a big day for the Layton fam. Reed, Calvin, and Mommy started school. Reed was a little apprehensive about the year. But after one day with Mrs. Nash, he reported, "I think 2nd grade is gonna be my favorite year!" I could tell that Calvin, normally Mr. Fearless, was a little nervous too. But where Reed wanted to hash out every detail of his emotions and their probable causes, Calvin didn't really talk much. There was just something about his body language that Momma Bear could pick up on. That tugged at my heartstrings, just like it did when he reported for kindergarten screening a few short months ago. But he headed to his classroom like a trooper, and apparently was past the jittery stage by lunchtime, when I waited half my lunch period outside to give him a reassuring hug on his way to recess. He tromped right past me and didn't even hear when I called his name (or he's already really good at mom avoidance). He was running in a silly monster or villain-type mode, so I was pretty sure I had nothing to worry about!

After school, I let the boys tell all about their day. Reed could hardly stand to wait through Calvin's short report before he told me every. single. thing. that happened during his day. Calvin's report? "OK. Lunch was GREAT! We had this big circle chicken nugget...and a sandwich that it was on (chicken patty sandwich - be still my heart!) ...and three carrot sticks...and yogurt...and chocolate milk!" And that was pretty much the extent of it, other than what he had told me earlier when I caught him really quickly after school, "I didn't get in trouble at ALL!" and proceeded to tell me all about the two boys who did get in trouble. He also had to visit the nurse and talked to the principal, but all over a playground crash and burn that didn't even get a mention until he was putting a fresh band-aid on at home.

Momma had a great day, too. Other than some barely-disguised tears when I dropped my baby off ALONE at day care (and he got a little clingy), and a couple choke-ups over my fearless five-year-old, the day was minimally emotional and waaaaay more calm than my last year's class (Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Amen!)

And Max? Well, he went almost accident free in undies all day! Which may be the best news of all!

One Expensive Car Wash

We have a cooler full of Capri Suns sitting on our porch. It's leftover from a church event a week ago.  We were at the right place at the right time, and the pastor sent them home with us. Max asked for one today when we were outside. I agreed, and helped him unwrap and insert the straw. Then, when Calvin came out and the two started spraying each other with water guns, I decided to make my escape and start supper. I peeked out the window a few times to make sure they were ok, and everything seemed fine. Max was still happily nursing a Capri Sun and the two were getting each other wet. 

When I decided to run to the shed for something real quick, I found several straw wrappers on the ground. That seemed weird. And the cooler seemed really low. My first suspicion was that Max had guzzled juice box after juice box, but that didn't add up. He can't do the straw by himself. The I saw Calvin, perched up in our grape arbor, chomping on grapes, surrounded by about a dozen pieces of silver litter on the ground beneath him. Here's the conversation that followed:

M: Calvin! How many Capri Suns did you drink? 

C: None  (said a little too sweetly)

M: Why are there juice pouches all over the ground. (no answer) Did you open them for Max? (no answer) 

At this point, I notice that they all have straws in them, and their mostly twisted up, empty. The water guns are on the porch, and Max is still dripping wet. I know my son too well. 

M: Did you spray Max with them?

C: ...(long pause) Not just Max...

M: What else did you spray?

C: Dad's truck, to wash it. 

I'm sure glad that boy starts school this week. Just please pray for his teacher!

Chalk it up to Marital Discord

Yesterday, I blogged about my unending love for my wonderful, amazing husband. Today, I had a knock-down-drag-out with the jerk. It all started when I innocently came out to see if he was ready for lunch just when our entire flock of sheep snuck past him into our yard. I assumed he knew they were out since he was standing right by them. Well, you've probably heard what assuming does to people. And boy did it! Over the next hour or so, the following may or may not have happened (in no particular order) 

- All five family members managed to herd the sheep in nine different directions at least four times before they finally went through the gate. Some of us were giggling. Some of us were not.

- I yelled, “Just TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO AND STOP TALKING TO ME LIKE THAT!!!!!” loud enough that I’m sure the farmers, who were working at the neighboring barn, had to have heard.

- Max told me, “I want you to talk nice.”

- Ryan called me a stupid idiot who doesn’t know anything about animals (well, that’s from the QTV* translation, but it's the most reliable version I'm told)

- I illustrated my animal shepherding logic on a chalkboard to prove that I was NOT a stupid idiot. (If you look closely through the kid-scribbles, you'll see my "strength in numbers" theory being explained with vigorously-drawn arrows)

- I admitted that I HATE animals, and that I always have and always will.

- I asked Reed, “Do you REALLY want to talk to me right now? Really!?” when he started to tell me a story about ___(I don't even know. Insert stupid boy obsession here)______.

We finally cooled down and life went on. Right now, Ryan's kayaking with some friends. I'm sitting on the porch enjoying the 70 degree July weather.The big boys are jumping on the trampoline and play "block the frisbee," which is really just a version of fetch wherein Max is the dog. 

The time apart is precisely what we all need. Summer togetherness is a double-edged sword. 

Just a few minutes ago, though, I was doing "combinations" on the tramp with the scamps. Calvin's combination provided the comic relief we all needed, even though the fight has long been over. His combination was, "Something from real today:"

- Sheep getting away (crawls exaggeratedly across trampoline). 

- Dad yelling for help - (HEY! GET OVER HERE! in manly, slightly disgruntled voice)

- Momma sheep knocking over baby sheep (whacks and rolls)

- Baby sheep gets up and runs (more animated crawling, this time with cute baby sound effects)

- Mom writing on the chalkboard (scribbles in the air and shakes head vigorously)

We had a lot of fun performing that combination! And I can't wait until Daddy gets home so I can tell him about it, and we can have a laugh together!  

*Queen Tobi Version

Fashion Advice From Calvin

Overflowing baskets of unfolded laundry revealed something I never would've guessed about my son. He does put thought into what he wears. Calvin couldn't find undies, so I dug him out a pair of Wolverinies from the mountain. He quickly rejected them because, "I only wear those with my Mario jammies." What?! This, from the boy who never cares about what he's wearing. At. All. He always has something a) inside out, b) backwards, c) mismatched, or d) all of the above (The correct answer is usually d). I asked him to explain his reasoning. Apparently, the Wolverine undies are his favs, as are the Mario jammies. They're rarely all clean at the same time, so he tries to wait for that magical moment. The next night, the planets were aligned. Mario shirt? Check. Mario pants? Too short, but check. Wolverine skivvies? Check. He donned the whole shebang, and then looked so stinkin' cute I made him pose for this picture:

In true Calvin style, he had to do his own pose.

Then, Reed wanted in on the action, so he dug up his favorite jammies.

I'd say my kids don't always look like orphans, but that would be a lie.

Heathens

Every summer, a coworker and friend of mine invites our boys to her church's vacation Bible school. VBS is their church's biggest outreach event, and my friend is the director. She's an all-star teacher, so she puts on a great VBS. We've been several years, but this summer, I was especially excited because Max is old enough to leave. This year's experience would be two free hours of babysitting a great opportunity for him to learn about Jesus, too.  Like always, my friend and her church put on a great program and the boys really enjoyed themselves. Tonight, when I picked them up, she came over to me to share something that happened. "I asked the kids if they knew what diligent meant and Calvin..." she began. I immediately begin mentally patting myself on the back. Just a week ago, we had discussed diligence in great detail because it was the hero trait of the day in a comic book devotional my Dad had given us. Go on, go on and tell me how brilliant my five-year-old is, I thought to myself, and how spiritually well-trained my kids must be. And she went on. "Calvin raised his hand and said that when you're diligent you do your best job and work hard and don't do a crappy job." Crap. Guess my penchant for potty humor is coming back to bite me in the butt bottom.

To fully appreciate my humiliation, let me share with your a little about the parishioners at this church. It's a small, country church with a small congregation. I'm fairly certain several of the families homeschool. I'm also fairly certain most of the women wear dresses to church every Sunday. At least one woman (my friend's mother-in-law and the late preacher's wife) wears skirts every day. There is some debate about the King James version being the only acceptable version of the Bible for believers to study. I think the thys had it. And I'm not sure, because I read the NIV version, but I'm guessing "crappy" isn't in the King James vernacular.

And now, let me tell you about another experience this congregation had with my lovely middle munchkin a few years ago. On the final VBS family celebration Calvin managed to defile both the painstakingly-crafted watermelon cake (with his fingers) and the side of the church (with his urine).

Now I'm starting to think that there's another reason my friend invites my boys to VBS every summer. It is their church's biggest outreach event.

Quotable Quote

I had to put this in writing just because I'll never believe that this boy

said this to his brother:

"Yes it is TOO fair! Mom makes a choice and the boys follow it."

I don't even remember the preceding events (they were erased by the shock), but I'm fairly certain Reed was in trouble and Calvin was (for once) in the clear. Wonder what he'll say if I repeat the sentiment the next time he's in trouble...

Score!

I was on a roll today! While running double car trouble errands, I managed to kick butt and take names. At the grocery store, I happened to notice a stockpile of empty clear plastic “jars” for candy. I knew they’d be perfect for organizing, which I’ve been doing a lot of since school let out. So, I asked the manager if they would sell them and he let me take six (SIX) for free (FREE!) The only thing that could’ve made it better would be if they were way-cuter glass, but considering the demographics of my household, I think plastic is probably for the best. I have big plans for a super-cute, super-organized, Pinterest-ful craft nook in the corner of my bedroom and these jars are gonna bring it to a whole new level. 

Then, I stopped at a junk shop to ask about a dresser I’ve been eying for a couple of weeks. It’s been sitting outside and it’s definitely seen better days, but it’ll be perfect for this other big plan I have for a super-cute, super-organized, Pinterest-ful, entryway by our front door. 

Sidenote: Did I mention that I have a lot of projects lined up for the summer? Darn you, Pinterest! On my first day of freedom, I was spazzing out to Ryan about it because, “I don’t even know where to start!”  The hubs, ever the practical one, told me to just make a list of everything I wanted to do. That’s the problem, Babe. I already did, and it’s three pages long! Literally. 

Anyway, I’ll be loading up the dresser I’ve been coveting tomorrow with my wallet only $20 lighter. Boo. To. The. Yah!

So, I was telling the boys about my sweet scores because they still care about that kind of crap (or they’ve learned the age-old man secret of pretending to care). They got really excited with me and asked me where I was going to put said sweet items (ftr - they clearly didn’t learn their pretending to care skills from their father). So I described the craft area and the entry nook and how we would keep our shoes in a large basket under the dresser because it had awesome tall legs and how we could store our hats and gloves in one of the side cabinet thingies in the winter and our sunscreen and beach towels in the summer and how I was going to sew a little curtain to cover up the missing drawer, etc. etc. etc. Then, Reed said something that showed what a perceptive little fellow he is. “Mimi will say you're so organized!” Perceptive, because his comment showed that he understood what I valued, and who in our life would most appreciate the decorative arts.  I got a chuckle out of that because I had instantly thought of my Mom’s reaction to the “after” when I saw the “before.” Calvin, reacting to my laugh, had to up the stakes as only he can, “Yeah! Mimi will scream and pee in her pants!” One can only hope, Cal-cal. One can only hope. 

There’s just a tiny problem. I don’t know a thing about refinishing furniture. And I haven’t gotten my new sewing machine out of the box to see if I remember how to use one. And I have three more pages of other projects to do first. I might just have to settle for a Mimi gasp when she sees the "before" and dreams of the "after" possibilities with me. By the time I actually get it done, she may be peeing her pants on a daily basis. 

Update - I did it! Check these projects out - dresser and craft room containers and craft nook. 

Poetry by Calvin

We really can't get a word in edgewise around here. Usually, what the boys want to say when they interrupt us is totally pointless (or they want something), but every once in a while, they treat us to a little gem:

Ryan: Graduation was really great last night.
Me: Oh? How so?
Ryan: Well...
Calvin (interrupting): Hey! Dad! I got something!

                                  Roses are red,
                                  Graduation is here,
                                  And your feet smell like stink!

That's my boy...

It Doesn't Get More "Boy" Than This

A look at our afternoon should make it obvious why I adore our middlest. During our few hours in the great outdoors, I witnessed Calvin:
- jumping on the trampoline
- climbing on the garden fence
- climbing on the grape arbor
- cimbing on the goat transport cage thingy
- climbing on the dog box and jumping off...over and over and over...and over
- executing a successful sneak attack and pounce to save my left shoe from Shaky, our canine shoe thief

- running all over the yard in an attempt to rescue my right

- wrestling with Shaky, just for fun

- making important announcements into a large and long piece of PVC pipe
- lapping water from the ditch like a dog (the same water we were fascinated with a few days ago because of the abundance of troll-hair algae)

And he did all this while sporting his dino/monkey jammie shirt (backwards, of course), clashy shorts, and black socks. Gotta pick my battles with this guy...