In the single digit hours of the night, the youngest family member appeared beside our bed, quietly whispering that he needed to snuggle. Doug scooped him up and put him between us in the bed. I adjusted his pillow and covers. He flung an arm over me to let me know that I shouldn’t move. It was a perfect moment…
until the child loudly tattled, “T is playing X-box right NOW.”
NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER TRY TO TEACH EVAN MATH IT WILL NEVER WORK HE DOES NOT LISTEN HE IS ALSO VERY RUDE&MEAN!!!!!!’!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:(
This weekend, I will be having a serious discussion with Supertween… about the caps lock key and only using one exclamation point.
Amy’s voice is extremely animated and expressive. She has a very specific tone if the problem is her little brother. When I heard her call me in that special way of hers, I expected to see her brother sitting on her, trying to steal a toy or doing any of the many, many things that he does only to annoy her. I didn’t expect what I actually saw. Amy was running hither and yon with her brother inches behind her the whole way. He pulled a sucker out of his mouth, slapped it in her hair, licked the sucker and stuck it in her hair again. “Evan! Stop right now!” Startled, he dropped the sucker and Amy raced to me for safety. Before I could even speak, Evan picked the sucker up and popped it in his mouth. “I just ate some grass.”
Amy: puts can of Shrek soup on counter “Can I have Shrek soup with dinner?”
Evan: puts can of Cars soup on counter “Can I have Lightning McQueen soup with dinner?”
Me: “We will have one soup. You and Amy need to agree on which one.”
Evan: drops can of Shrek soup on floor “We agree on mine.”
They ate Spongebob soup.
Amy: “Evan, you stay out of my room or I will call the police and they’ll put you in jail.”
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Amy: “Where’s my penguin that was in the living room?’
Evan: “I called police and they put it in jail.”
The plague is slowly working its’ way through our house. Sarah was the first to spike the fever that never ends and sleep like Rip Van Winkle. The only sign remaining that she was sick is her hacking cough and crotchety disposition. Now it’s Evan’s turn. His fever peaks in the wee hours of the night and I hold him close, trying to will the fever out of his body. Amy and Noah ignore my pleas to give Evan a wide berth. Noah has to hug Evan every time he walks past him. During the breaks in the fever, Evan will be calmly playing with toys and Noah will still feel compelled to give Evan a worried hug. “No hugs. I busy.” Within ten minutes, Noah will be hugging Evan again. Amy is just as determined to be the next sick person. If Evan is playing, she is two inches from his face – quizzing him. “How do you feel NOW?” “I fine.” “No. You are SICK!” At least she is more compassionate during his feverish times. She brings him stuffed animal after stuffed animal. This would be fine except that as mentioned earlier, I hold Evan whenever his fever is high. It’s very difficult to hold a dozen furry toys when you are also holding a human heating pad who is talking about sharks biting him.
“Why can’t I have a twin? I want a twin.”
Amy has a talent for demanding the impossible. I should have told her I gave her a room of her own for 9 months.
In the escalating love-hate struggle between the 3 and 6 year-old, I have been cautiously optimistic that the 6-y-o would eventually start using her brain and stop using her tears. Yesterday, instead of the usual scream like a banshee and wail in misery because he “wouldn’t stop looking at me,” Amy locked herself in her bedroom. Well, locked is not an accurate description. Since Evan has an unnatural ability to pick any lock, Amy barricaded herself in her bedroom. Evan pounded on the door and demanded to be let inside. Amy calmly replied that she was busy telling Santa about the very naughty Evan. Evan freaked. I could see the gleam of satisfaction in Amy’s eyes shining through the closed door, sideways chair, tiny desk and pile of stuffed animals. Evan grabbed my cell phone and demanded that I call Santa. He mumbled something about being a good boy in the phone and went back to check on Amy. She moved the pile of furniture and let Evan in the room. I was amused with Amy, sad for Evan and a little bit creeped out by the drama. Was Amy just pretending or was she actually praying to Santa Claus?