The Hunky Hubby was telling me of their adventures while sweet boy #1 and I were off on our Mommy Day. Apparently at one point sweet boy #2 brought out a fan and plugged it in because despite the fact that he is normally clad in undies and nothing else he was “too hot”. All went well for a time until The Hunky Hubby heard a cry of alarm. He went to investigate and discovered the sweet boy #3 had gotten his little pointer finger stuck in the fan. The Hunky Hubby rescued him and he sustained only a small scrape. But as he was explaining this tale, sweet boy #3 heard and rushed over to the fan again to reenact it for my benefit. It was turned off, but he is so funny about acting out his owies. He will even bonk his head again on something in order to explain to us exactly what happened.
Sadly I can’t come down too hard on The Hunky Hubby over the fan incident. For later in the week I was carefully observing my offspring from the computer desk and happened to be just close enough to watch sweet boy #3 poor a bunch of salt out of the big round salt thingy directly into our carpet.
Then there was the time I extolled them to “only color on the box, don’t rip it.” They did indeed refrain from ripping. But they colored with such a great amount of force as to leave the box a virtual swiss cheese of crayon rendered punctures.
Sweet boys #1 and #2 have a lot of accidents. Easily prevented pees and poops that don’t quite make it. They have been potty trained for awhile and thus I decided that perhaps a bit more motivation was called for. I explained to sweet boy #1 that if he had an accident then he would receive no more potty treats on that day. He was greatly put out. Often I discuss new rules with the Hunky Hubby but it is understood between us that each parental unit has the authorization to in-act new legislation as we see fit. Apparently sweet boy #1 wanted to petition the system for he stated: “I did not hear you deciding about that rule. I did not hear you talking to Daddy about that!” Hmmmm.
But the winner this week.
Earlier in the week Shamu (our Newfoundland dog) had rummaged in our garbage and retrieved a piece of fried egg that some errant child had somehow placed into the paper garbage. Later, a doggy friend of Shamu’s chewed something up. Looking at the mess sweet boy #1 waxed eloquent on the virtues of our doggy. “Shamu is a good dog. He cleans…He knows stuff. If there’s egg in the burnable garbage he gets it out and you like that. That is nice of him.”