For Paul

So turns out Paul is allowed to read our blogs. So I need to do a better job of documenting our lives.

This is a start. I will add in some text after kids are in bed...

1.

Baby Laughs

One of the great things about the boys is that they don't have to know your name or anything about you to love you. For the first several months after we moved here they called their list of girl cousins "those girls that we love." It isn't just cousins though. It is relatives, friends, new acquaintences, and outright strangers. It got so full on that we eventually had to teach the boys not to run up and kiss everyone they saw...especially because they often kissed at waist height for adults. Yes. Strangers were also partakers of their greeting kisses.

That's the thing with the kids. I feel like we are constantly trying to teach them things that they have no intention of keeping in their minds. For instance, Tuesday is garbage day. I have been trying for over six months to get the boys to gather up all the garbages in the house, bring them to the garage, and put new liners in the bins. Today, with reminders, they accomplished roughly 8% of that effort. That is right down there with the approval rating of congress. Undoubtedly my teaching methods could use improvement, but...

Here is a food story for all of you who knew me as a child and desire justice (read "revenge") upon me. As many of you know, I am a "selective" *cough...picky* eater. Actually I'm pretty good now, but I was terrible as a child. Enter Gage. This is how dinner starts.

Gage: "What are we eating tonight." The food is already in front of him. "I don't think I like it. I'm not hungry...Can I have peanut butter instead?"
Me: "No. Eat your five bites." That is our rule. You have to eat as many bites as your age before proclaiming an opinion on the food.
Gage: Two seconds later, "I ate my five bites."
Me: "Whatever! You maybe licked one bite." Gage gets around the rule by redefining a bite as a lick, a smell, or maybe even just a good-long-look at the food.

Anyway, guess who sits at the table every night for an hour and who drives us crazy with his incessant begging for peanut butter and Cheerios. Now guess which adult gets blamed for the genetics behind this.

Well, enough stories for tonight. I'll get to the part you really logged on to see. Enjoy the downright goodness of Sabrina laughs.

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