Last night, my mother came over to give the boys some much-needed haircuts. Wyatt, who is normally the most wiggly and difficult to cut, was being particularly still and cooperative.
Finding herself without the need to keep saying “Sit still!” my mom decided to strike up a conversation with her grandson.
“So, Wyatt, how was your day today?” she asked.
“Well, it wasn’t really so cool,” he started.
“Why was that?”
“Um, I had a big poop that wouldn’t come out. Eventually, though, it did.”
I noticed that Mom didn’t ask any more questions after that.
This morning, Mom was over again. This time, she was helping watch kids and work on school with Noah while I was dealing with the DirecTV installer.
I think that I have mentioned in the past that my dogs aren’t all exactly suited for our more rural setting. Specifically, little mop dogs and wooded lots don’t exactly mix. This was illustrated as Thunder walked in the house with some sort of thorny stick tangled in the fur on the back of both of his hind legs.
As the poor dog hobbled by her, my mom said, “Katie, the dog needs your help.” Being his usual curious self, Noah jumped up to see what the issue was.
“Mom!” he shouted in a panic, “The dog’s tail fell off!”
I explained to him that it was just a stick, but he looked more than uneasy as I set about the task of cutting it free.
After school was over, I asked Noah what he wanted for lunch today. I fully expected that, like every other day, he would request a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This made it all the more confusing when he gave his answer.
Sensing an obvious breakdown in communication, I asked again.
“What do you want for lunch?”
“Robins,” he told me.
Not quite ready to admit defeat, I tried a different tact.
“What exactly are robins?” I asked him.
He looked at me as if I couldn’t possibly get any stupider.
“You know! The noodles! Robins!”
And so, today for lunch, we ate Ramen.
With the move today from Dish to DirecTV came the total loss of everything we had on the DVR. Shortly after Sean got home from work, he went downstairs to help the boys set up something to watch.
At one point, I look over and see Eli (who had been taken downstairs with Daddy) about two steps from the top of the staircase. As I went to grab him, I noticed Caleb in a large, round bin on the landing.
“Dear, are you paying even a little bit of attention???” I called down the stairs.
“Well, the baby is at the top of the stairs, and Caleb is getting ready to launch himself down them in a bucket!” I said with a noticeable lack of patience.
“Uh, hmmm…I was setting the DVR.”
I suppose that is one way to do things. Not only will the older two have plenty of mindless entertainment at their demand, they won’t have any younger brothers to distract them while they are watching.