Left to their own devices

I left the kids at the island bench tonight to finish their dinner. I usually make a point of staying with them, as much in the name of cabinetry preservation as table etiquette. But I had to write something down – when words are flowing, so help me, don’t stand in my way.

Of course there is always a price to pay when you fail to adhere to the ‘Self-Preservation Safety Standards of Mothering Boys’ procedures manual.

I got the ideas down (you can stop stressing), but the ‘situation’ in the kitchen became less than desirable. It wasn’t as bad as the other night when I left the room only to be chased down seconds later by my eldest to report that his brother had put his entire foot in his macaroni.

Rather, tonight, I was dragged back to ‘kitchen reality’ by the gagging sounds being made by my three year old (have you noticed the frequency with which he features in these little tales?). He is quite a creative little sucker, using the top of a spray bottle to extract the juice from his cup, subsequently spraying the newly contaminated fluid into his cherubim-like cake-hole.

He was covered in frozen yoghurt, gagging on the juice hitting the dangly bit in his throat (whatever the scientific name for that thing is…), his middle brother trying to launch his swivel chair into orbit by spinning at the speed of light, and the muffins I left in the oven? Well, let’s just say that I performed my very own miracle turning blueberries into blackberries.

If only this was fictional.

This is my life.

I’ve heard that little girls have tea parties and play ‘talking games’ with their dolls? Could that be true?

There is certainly something to say about the raw enthusiasm of kids. I can’t comment about little girls, but I’ve sure got a lot to say about their soon-to-be hairier counterparts. As much as they challenge my sanity (pretty much on an hourly basis) I am secretly excited about what incredible escapades are going to colour their adult lives. Hopefully none of them will involve a paddy wagon and a bail out fee.

Unfortunately there’s no real underlying ‘deep and meaningful’ message in today’s blog. Just don’t turn your back…