We live in an apartment. It is not small, it is not huge . . . its adequate in its 3 bedroom capacity to house our small family of 2 boys and a set of parents.
A couple of times a week I watch two more tots . . . same age as my boys, 3 and 4 . . . close enough that I can say that. I think Jordan turns 3 in December. Thats beside the point.
When you get 4 boys under 5 in an average sized 3 bedroom apartment . . . trapped indoors due to rain and hail and cold winds . . . it is amusing, trying and “I-should-be-documenting-this-for-some-reality-show-revealing-of-tot-behavior-whilst-trapped-indoors-for-hours” kind of feeling.
I’ll leave it to the producers to think of a shorter name for the documentary.
Perhaps
“Trying Times in Tot-Land”.
Or something stupid like that.
The boys I watch are fantastic kids. The listen and help pick up when I announce those times. They eat politely and are mostly nice to my boys. They use the potty . . . without me reminding them too much. They stay out of the garbage and leave the fridge alphabet magnets on the fridge . . . while and after playing with them. They buckle themselves in their carseats . . . no help from me, just a bit of supervision. They share, for the most part, and enjoy interacting with my kids.
Unlike some other tots that live here . . . that listen on when I get that tone in my voice and pick up if I’m standing over them. I’m pretty sure Tob had his dinner plate taken away tonight for throwing carrots at Sam, across the room, so the eating politely thing is stricken. I don’t think I’ll talk too much about the “being nice to others” bit . . . except to say that wrestling and rough housing is fine for a little while and then the boys were done . . . well, not my boys, just the boys I was watching. I hate poop . . . poop in the toilet!! ”Didn’t I just throw that empty Wheat Thins box in the garbage, Tob? Huh? Why are you using it for a car ramp? And, no, you can’t have the lid off he discarded milk carton either!” Gross! The stove is not my favorite spot for the alphabet magnets to be sported. You know, hefting a 20 pound 15 month old in a car seat . .. oh, who am I kidding . . . 30 pound 15 month old in a car seat was a feat of sorts. I do believe that constitutes as an all-body workout. Hoisting a 45 pound 4.5 year old into a car seat that now sits in a 4×4 SUV. . . I think my back is out. I don’t think Sam ever relinquished the highly sought after ‘Mac’ truck (from the movie Cars) . . . the one thats made of plastic that is missing half its parts, not to mention missing the trailer that attaches to it . . . piece of plastic crap. ”Take my friends back,” Tob kept saying all evening. I didn’t really comprehend what he was referring to . . . then Aaron decided to clarify . . . “I think he wants to you take us back home.” So frickin sweet my kids are! Like merchandise . . . just take them back. Hmmm . . . is there return/exchange for kids?
Actually I love my kids . . . no worries.
I mean . . . who couldn’t love this!
Two . . . two is a good number.
~blessings
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