Snapshots of life

There are some quintessential moments where my children's personalities are so completely revealed; I must write them down so that I won't ever forget.

Tweenie was on the phone with BFF last night. She was slouched on the couch, one ankle resting on the knee of her other leg. She had a lock of hair in her hand and was twirling it around her finger as she chatted. I could hear her sweet innocent voice from the kitchen:

"Yah, and, like, then she's like, "I'm so wearing this for the Christmas concert" and I'm like, "no way!" and she's like...."

Rascal found out about horsie rides. Tweenie was only too happy to oblige. They played that game for at least an hour yesterday, with Rascal shouting "GO GO!", digging his heels in her sides and she responded with neighing enthusiastically. Mama participated for a little while, but then they wanted to both be on my back and I proceeded to undo all the work my chiropractor had done that afternoon. So now I sit here with an icepack and shake my head at what sort of 30-something moron would allow 80+ combined pounds of children on her back.

Baby is teething we think, because he drools and chews on everything. Yesterday it was Rascal's huge remote-controlled racecar. This thing is about 18 inches long, 10-12 inches wide and 5 or 6 inches tall. In other words, nearly as large as Baby himself. So there he lay, trying his darndest to cram the rear bumper into his mouth. Rascal wasn't upset at all about this; he sat on the couch watching and laughing hysterically.

Twit watches all of this with cat-like disdain, only to jump in like Tigger when the squealing gets too loud and she realizes she's missing out on something.

Husband sits on the side, impassive as always. You wouldn't think it was possible, but sometimes the children's antics are enough to distract him from his Blackberry. Then he jumps into the fracas and starts tickling thrashing body parts.

No one got to bed on time yesterday, but at least we all slept like logs.