Yes, I Am Raising the Most Violent Boys Ever

The conversation started at Home Depot. Ethan was walking along beside me, touching, feeling and, yes, sometimes licking every shiny object we passed. Wyatt was in the cart screaming and yelling because he wanted to be able to touch, feel and lick everything big brother did. I explained to Wyatt that he couldn't get out of the cart because he was so cute someone would steal him from me. Anyone overhearing my boast might think that an exaggeration considering I was talking to a screaming, sweating, snotty two year old, but hey, he believed me.
Ethan wanted to teach him what to do if someone did try to steal him. Goes to show what a good big brother he is. At that age, my advice to my little brother was always "don't forget to wave good-bye" ;)

Wyatt, if someone tries to steal you, you have to kick them in the peepee and run away.

Umm. Clearly something Greg taught him.
Wyatt was on board with this, though. He continued to come up with all types of ways to lay some hurt down on said snotty-two-year-old stealers.

I poke him in his eyes and run back to you Mommy. I kick him in the face and run back to you Mommy. I punch him in the tummy. And then I pull his hair. And pinch him. And bite him on the arm.

Ethan could not be outdone, however. More violence was needed to ensure my Mother of the Year status to all of the other Home Depot patrons looking on with a mixture of sympathy and horror.

Well I would hit him on the head with a hammer. And then I would kick him in the tushi. And I would punch him in the eye. And then push him down in the mud.

But Wyatt wanted to have the last word. You could see his little mind trying so hard to come up with the most horrible thing to do to the child napper.

I...I...I....would change his diaper!

The Next Step in Ensuring My Kid Never Wants to Play Football

Fall t-ball has started! Greg is head coach again, which I really like. I know there is no way he could sit back and watch someone else teach his son how to play one of his favorite sports. I like the family involvement, though. And it suits my need to control everything and everyone. :)

I am really happy with the team this season. There are 9 of them! 9 little balls of energy running around in different directions! So basically, as the un-official (ie Self Appointed) team mom, I have to figure out how to organize the little devils. Lets just start with the first game. I was prepared. I bought a bucket for each little boy with his name on it. In this bucket was to be all of his own personal t-ball gear. Glove, hat, helmet, water bottle. Everything was organized. Until the game actually started! Then it was pretty much every kid for himself. Whatever hat/glove/water bottle could be reached first was the one that he used.

Some of the parents had written their kid's name on their stuff, camp underwear style, but some had not. I had anticipated this and so brought my own sharpie. Again, helpful--not controlling! By the end of the game, Everything was labeled. Not that it did a whole lot of good. It just allowed the parents to find the kid that swiped their kid's stuff before they went home.

In the span of a one hour game, we had to have 4 trips to the pottie! One for real. One because he saw the first kid go. One forced because his peepee dance was distracting the other players. And one that snuck off on his own and was back before I ever knew what happened! Yikes!

But I do think this is going to be a good season, even with the challenge of herding 9 little boys into some semblance of a team. Ethan's bust buddy is on our team this season and his father is the assistant coach. Love that! How can you look at these faces and not cheer for The Dodgers!?

Because My Boys Are That Way

Last night as we were snuggling on the couch, Wyatt started kissing all over my arm.
What are you doing Wyatt?
I'm kissing your sprinkles, Mommy!

A couple of days ago, Wyatt was frantically looking for one of his toys. Ethan in his most serious big brother voice: I will help you Wyatt. My eyes are bigger then yours so I can look for things better then you. (I am serious! I can't make this stuff up!)

I was taking the boys to the park on Saturday. This is not our neighborhood park, we have to drive across town and pretend we live in a different neighborhood so we can play at their park which is much bigger then ours. Ethan has always called it The Blue Park because, yes, all the toys are blue. He's creative that way.

When I told them where we were going, Ethan cheered and started chanting Blue Park, Blue Park. Wyatt joined in the chant, but didn't quite understand what Ethan was chanting or why. It became clear that he was chanting "Boo Bart" which seriously stressed Ethan out. Maybe he thought I would change my mind and not go to the park? So, again in his serious big brother voice he corrected Wyatt. And the little devil kept up the chant of Boo Bart because he's ornery that way.

So Ethan told him to sound it out and tried to teach him.

Ethan: Say it like me Wyatt. Paw Paw Paw.

Wyatt: pawpawpawpawpawpaw!

Ethan: Whoa Whoa Whoa! Ok. Now say ark ark ark.

Wyatt: arkarkarkarkarkark!

Ethan: Good!!! Now put it together. Paw-Ark. Paw-Ark. Paw-Arrrr Ummm... MOM!! How do you say it again?