Sweet Boy#3–Is throwing a bouncy ball, hits the TV, ricochets the ball off the TV and right into his eyeball. Which is apparently quite painful!
Sweet Boy#2–Despite many previous disciplinary actions, he has yet again become confused as to the location of the lavatory and peed in the garbage can. “I thought it was the potty” he assured me, with angel eyes and chubby cheeks aglow. I’m afraid that pathological honesty is not one of his vices.
Sweet Boy#3–I am pounding on the Hunky Hubbies back with my fists to loosen his painful knots. But fear not! His youngest comes valiantly to the rescue and grabs my hands, bravely placing himself between us. “No, that hurts him!” he insists. And after all who could resist a knight in shining armor.
But the winner this week…
Bedtime–I herd my young brood through our lengthy bedtime routine and retire exhausted to the living room just dying for a moment, just a moment that’s all. Just as I settle my weary body and strung nerves I hear a wail of agony…sounds serious. I investigate and find that somehow Sweet Boy#2 has bonked his lip on the headboard of his bed, resulting in a large gash that is bleeding everywhere. We carry the injured party to the couch, apply cloths and ice and Tylenol. Then just as he is settled, more screams from the bedchamber. It is Sweet Boy#1 who has burned his leg on his new reading lamp. No, not pretend. There is an actual red burned mark on his leg. We apply hugs and more ice. Finally all is quiet…until my youngest rushes out to me with disturbing news. His brother is injured and unable to hobble out for aid. Yep, Sweet Boy#2 has a hangnail on his big toe. Bedtime at the Wilks house, surely we have all the adventure we can handle.