I, Kristen Joy Wilks, who used to be the girl who would stand across the room with an empty air gun and shoot at any spider that dared to accost her walls, I have turned into the woman who just listened to the pathetic pleadings of her youngest son and relented from squishing a housebound arachnid. I even caught, yes you heard me, caught it in a jar and gave it to my son. With the severe warning that if the lid ever came off, his friend would die a quick and tragic death. Ah growth, you are so terribly painful.
Sweet Boy#3–Was playing video games with Daddy on Saturday morning and in order to get an answer to my question (are you done with breakfast) I was forced to turn his head away and cover his eyes with my hand before his power of speech returned.
Sweet Boy#2–Decides to make breakfast for us. Sets out an apple at each place and runs to get the family. Then he informs us that breakfast actually consists of “Power Apples” which give you strength and make you mutate. And so the boys spent their eating time rushing to chomp down all of the bruises and scrapes (they contain extra power) and flexing their muscles to demonstrate their increased strength and molecular mutation. Example: Sweet Boy#1–“I’m mutating into a flying dinosaur.” Of course there were several arguments concerning exactly what one was allowed to mutate into, science does have its limits you know.
I make the Hunky Hubby stop the car so that I could give a care package to a homeless man with a sign that read: “Lost Sheep Beggs.” He is strangely wary of the colorful gift bag I offer him.
“You see, I have to be careful. Are you with a church group?”
“Did you not want a Bible Sir?”
“What translation is it?”
He promptly returned my gift bag and proceeded to lecture me about the dangers of reading any version of the scriptures save the King James. He wouldn’t even take the granola bars! Ok, so I must admit that I did shed a few tears in the car after this event, but then I couldn’t help but laugh. Life is so strange sometimes.
But the winner this week….One of the benches to our dinning room table is breaking. It wobbles back and forth and is about to collapse every time we sit on it. The Hunky Hubby and I kept looking at it, wondering how much it would cost to get fixed. Then I saw Sweet Boy#2 underneath the bench working on something. I inquired about his project. He had found a long screw and bolt and was busily screwing it back into the bench. We found an allen wrench for him and our brilliant five-year-old fixed the bench. With a little tightening from the Hunky Hubby the bench is restored and all thanks to the observant eye and determined mind of our middle-est boy!