This afternoon Sam and I went to town to drop his buddy Jesse back home, and run a few errands. My house (small) has been packed with boys who eat non stop and sleep all snuggled together.
It's like a camp, but maybe not as well supervized: I am still busy trying to do a whole year's de-cluttering, so mostly my care and direction consists of "Sure you can light a fire. You want marshmallows with that?" Yes, I have heard toasted marshmallows are carcinogenic. But they are FUN and bring JOY to little boys and keep them OUTSIDE. They are having a wonderful and carefree time, but after they flooded my newly cleaned and sealed bathroom floor tonight I warned them that tomorrow there would be work to do. It's time for me to start leaving notes for them, like "This bathroom better be cleaner than you found it!" on the bathroom mirror and "Pick it up!!" in the bedroom.
Sam responds very well to written instructions. And Max does whatever Sam does. Chas and Issa, I just have to say "Ahem" and look at the latest heap of towel on floor. They are good boys. But leave them unsupervised for a few hours, and it's "Lord Of The Flies".
Oh, and Sam and I bought KFC home for supper. Such Joy! Such an excess of ketchup!
Just what is it about ketchup? Are little girls the same? Or does it invoke in little boys distant tribal memories of blood and guts? It certainly makes them hungrier!