Just when I think I have nothing to blog about enter: my children. More specifically my boys.
Everyone was like the dishes, washed, dried and put up. I was heading downstairs after putting Luke to bed when I hear an awful THUD coming from the boys room.
Small digression. Being the mom of boys allows you to see what your husband was like at that age. I can only imagine. As many things are there to not love about being a girl, I will take them anyday. Boys are just a species I can’t quite figure out.
Ok, so the thud. I head up to their room, open the door and find John Paul standing on the top bunk in his pull up (yes, still wearing one – another blog post) shaking his hiney like he’s on the dance floor and Will, standing next to the bed, quickly looking for a place to hide. He immediately shouts out, “Mom, John Paul won’t let me sleep.”
Really? So is that why since you sleep on the TOP bunk, you’re now on the floor, next to your brother’s bed? Nice try son, but we need to work on your lying skills.
I’ll spare you the rest of the convo, but OH. MY. GOODNESS. And I thought girls were dramatic.
(Shannon, yet another blog post to add to your vault of love stories for your favorite Whitaker)