I think I am losing control here…

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Boys

1.  Ella has been calling me Mrs. Johnson all morning.

2.  Dear Henry, please do not lick the bus seat.

3.  Also, please do not tell anyone else to lick the bus seat.

4.  To all other children, if Henry tells you to lick the bus seat, don’t do it.  I realize he can be captivating and all, and you can get swept up in the moment of brotherhood and solidarity, but GROSS! 

5.  Dear Henry, please do not spit on anyone. 

6.  I don’t care who did it first.

7.  If I said I kindof laughed at the bus-licker story, would you think that was wrong? 

8.  I don’t know what is happening to me…  I am losing it.

Boys and Rocks

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Boys, mason jar, rocks

Boys like rocks.  They collect them.  I find rocks in their pockets.  I find them under the sofa and in the bathtub.  I find rocks at the bottom of the hamper and I find them in my dryer.  Thinking I might be able to contain the rock collection to a single spot, I gave my boys a nice mason jar to keep their special rocks in. 

Boys also like to shake things.  Especially if the shaking creates noise.  Noise that is made by their special rocks klinkety-klanking around in their glass mason jar.   

Just fyi, it doesn’t take a whole lotta klinkety-klank before a mason jar shatters. 

 

 

On Boys and Organizing

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Boys, Organizing

I know what you’re thinking…boys and organizing don’t go together.  But I’ve got a bird (or two) of a different feather.  I could hear them conspiring in their room, whispering to each other.  This is what my boys did in there this morning:

This is their treasure drawer.  Notice the neatly-stacked sweatbands… 

 

These are some of their books–organized by size…

 

Check out the shoes, lined up all neat and tidy.  Their shirts are all folded (and you can’t tell from the picture but they are organized by length of sleeve).  Even the sleeping bags are stacked up!  Oh, my heart is all a-flutter!   

 

This is the top bunk.  Do you know how hard it is for me 4 and 6 year olds to make up the top bunk?!   

 

The finished product…

 

I don’t know how it happened…perhaps there is an organizing gene (which I have inherited, too), or maybe they have learned this particular form of insanity skill from watching the way their mommy folds towels.  Or maybe they’ve watched one too many episodes of Clean House…