Raising Boys

I still give my kids, ages 5 and 7 plastic utencils, mainly because when I find one in the dog's bed I know if came from my little boys and not my big boy (ahem, husband). I let my husband eat with real utencils. For now.

One of my kids thought urinating in a trash can was a completely acceptable thing. He didn't actually do it. He said he would. I worry about whether he's done this somewhere before.

Hunter, who is 5, hates being interupted when he has to go to the bathroom. He'll pee-pee dance forever if I don't actually yell at him to go pee. I have to threaten him. Literally. Last month I found poop in his underwear in the laundry. I asked him what happened, and he said he waited too long. Seriously? And he didn't feel the need to tell us he had poop in his pants. I half expected to find a turd. Ugh!

We got snow today and they were dying to go play in it. I grabbed my camera to play with the longer zoom on it.

We were outside just a few minutes when Ben appraoched me with a snowball. I stated, firmly and clearly, "Do not throw that me, I have my nice camera." A beat. He threw it. Really?

A few minutes later I turn my back, and Ben threw a snowball directly at Hunter's left eye. Hunter was running towards me, doing the mouth wide open silent cry/scream. They were brought in immediately. They were out there less than the time it took to get the ready to go out there.

I find things. I find fish sticks behind a chair. Go-gurt wrappers. Ben found toast crust in the lockers last week. I say this all the time, but little boys are gross.

And sneaky. I find things like this all the time:

This horrifically sharp broken votive candle holder was quietly stuffed under my hope chest-with the broken glass pieces set inside of it! No sign of who put there, but I know it could be any of the boys. Any 3 of them.

One time I found a picture frame with the glass broken out, and it was put back together and the glass was hiding.

Sneaky little buggers.

Little cherubs, right?