These two pictures capture exactly the season of life we're in right now. It's practically WWE around here. When we're approaching bedtime, the two boys will say, "Mom, can we wrestle?" I know it's a stalling technique, but I also realize that there's some really important bonding that's happening too.
So usually I say yes. Most of the time, the boys can't wrestle for more than six minutes before someone is insulted or hurt or outraged (it's usually Justin, the youngest). Last night the boys headed to the basement to wrestle. Emma looked at me and said, "How long till someone's crying?" We both made our predictions, and then she headed upstairs while I stayed downstairs. A few minutes later we heard the boys fighting.
"You jumped on me too hard!" one of them yelled (at this point, it doesn't even matter which).
"Well, you shouldn't have been playing with me," the other shouted, unreasonably.
Suddenly, I received a text:
But, before you go believing it's only a boy thing in our family, let me present you with this, a picture of the twins going at it just as hard as the boys do.
At the center of it all, as you may have noticed, is the middle boy. The rascal. the instigator. Jacob is always at the center of the noise in our home. It's almost like he's a magnet, drawn to the chaos.
Right now the kids are ruining my couch, annoying the neighbors and wreaking havoc in the basement. I know, though, that before I'll be ready they'll be heading out and making noise somewhere else, so I'm trying to soak it up. And to remind myself that the couch can take it.
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