Being a mother often involves me shouting out instructions I would never have expected to have to give. For example, “please don’t lick your shoes”. (Yes, I’ve said that.)
And “if you’re leaving the house you must wear pants”. I just sort of assumed those things were obvious, but evidently I was wrong.
Each time I hear one of these random instructions fly from me, I have to smile. Each such utterance is another tick mark on the wall, marking my days of parenting.
Lately, these instructions are mostly directed at the boys. Granted, B is older and past the shoe-licking-phase of life (hopefully), but I can’t recall ever having to remind her of that, even when she was very little. The boys, though. I love them, but seriously, they make me question my sanity.
Lately, Q will say “fire in the hole” out of the blue, then immediately fart. All boys in this house think that is hysterical. Matt tries to be a mature adult and not laugh, but we can all tell he thinks it’s kind of funny. B and I are less amused.
In related news, O and G have decided they are going to make a movie about Q and call it “Fart-nado”. This decision, made at the dinner table, resulted in one of the boys laughing so hard he choked and sprayed water out his nose.
Which just caused them all to laugh harder.
And this is my life; weird and wonderful.