The Frat House
For those of you who don't know, yes we are expecting our fourth little boy.
The more kids I have the more I realize that I live in a frat house. There are perpetual wrestling matches that seem to only stop for food breaks. The favorite shows in our house include Dirty Jobs or Survivor Man or some nature show of some animal hunting a poor helpless smaller animal. Practically every toy that we own has been tied up and captured. I often find random toys placed here or there in "cages". My two year old told me the other day, "I fart a lot. See." Then proceeded to push a small peep from his behind. I've said too much already and yet I haven't even scratched the surface.
Though my boys are boys, they sure are sweet too. Last night while I was reading and writing a few thoughts in a journal, Porter brought every brush into my room and brushed my hair, curled it with a cold curling iron, but a dab of lotion on my feet and brought in a small mirror and asked if I was excited to see the new me. Porter also loves my hair to be down and not in a clip and when I wear it that way he tells me how beautiful I look. When we were at the park the other day a little girl fell down twice and each time Porter rushed over to help her up. Another little girl was crying and Warrick rushed to her mom and said, "Yo Baby Crying!" and he was very worried about her.
So, due to more snakes found in pockets and more kitchen utensils buried in our back yard than most families, here is a current picture of me.
Now I have to go rescue a boy from a flying lion that flew through the air and landed on his head. This was propelled by his brother.
The more kids I have the more I realize that I live in a frat house. There are perpetual wrestling matches that seem to only stop for food breaks. The favorite shows in our house include Dirty Jobs or Survivor Man or some nature show of some animal hunting a poor helpless smaller animal. Practically every toy that we own has been tied up and captured. I often find random toys placed here or there in "cages". My two year old told me the other day, "I fart a lot. See." Then proceeded to push a small peep from his behind. I've said too much already and yet I haven't even scratched the surface.
Though my boys are boys, they sure are sweet too. Last night while I was reading and writing a few thoughts in a journal, Porter brought every brush into my room and brushed my hair, curled it with a cold curling iron, but a dab of lotion on my feet and brought in a small mirror and asked if I was excited to see the new me. Porter also loves my hair to be down and not in a clip and when I wear it that way he tells me how beautiful I look. When we were at the park the other day a little girl fell down twice and each time Porter rushed over to help her up. Another little girl was crying and Warrick rushed to her mom and said, "Yo Baby Crying!" and he was very worried about her.
So, due to more snakes found in pockets and more kitchen utensils buried in our back yard than most families, here is a current picture of me.
Now I have to go rescue a boy from a flying lion that flew through the air and landed on his head. This was propelled by his brother.
Comments
Love,
Amie I
It's good to know that I'm not being picked on and that everyone who has kids gets a bit of this!