The boys were making cards for my dad this morning, and I was cleaning up breakfast and only half listening. Until I heard Jack say, "Now I drew Grandpa Gary's private parts, so now I'll draw on his pants," at which time I devoted my full attention to their endeavor. Awesome. He's the kid from Super Bad. I never should have called him McLovin when he was a fetus.
Yesterday, Dorothy went down for a nap at 7:45 in the morning, which was unusual but pretty darn awesome since Cooper has a baby gym class that cuts her nap short. But it meant that I could not watch the boys walk to school out her window like I usually do, so I had to put on my Ugg mocs and stand on the front porch. They were bickering with each other as they walked down the driveway. By the time they went through the first cross walk, they were hollering, and I tried to call out to tell them to stop fighting, but I didn't want to speak too loudly and wake the baby. By the second crosswalk, they were slapping each other, and by the time they reached school, they were full-on brawling, fists flying, rolling on the ground in the snow. I watched with horrified fascination for a few seconds but then I realized they could get suspended for fighting on school grounds, and then they would be stuck home with me. So, I ran across the street as fast as I could in my jammies (yoga pants, a tank top and a cardigan thank goodness), dodging car after carpooling car to break them up and tell them there was no way in the world they would be getting anything even close to screen time when they got home. Harry rolled his eyes at me (ROLLED HIS EYES AT ME) and walked into the school, while Jack stayed to argue and whine about his 2 left gloves, the start of the whole mess. It was seriously classy. Especially when I realized I left 2 babies alone in the house-- one in her crib and one in the living room watching Barbie: Life in the Dream House on his iPad.
Such a helper: