Life with two five year-old boys is rowdy and loud, which I admittedly have a very difficult time tolerating. This evening, as I had just finished getting the boys tucked into bed and was lingering in the doorway, irritably answering one more question, Jack suddenly said, "I loved you even when I was a baby. When I was one, two, three, four, five. And I'll still love you when I'm six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, even 21,000! Even when I'm in third grade!"
Thanks, kid.
Henry, look I'm perfect and adorable too:
Also big and brave:
The laundry must get done. Short proto-people who cannot reach must improvise.
Watching Daddy cook:
Coloring is very serious business:
In art from school news, the boys were instructed to color their own paper plate planets.
Description on back: Henry's My planet is named earth, Jack's My planet is named Mixed Up.
Coloring results:
Should we be concerned that Jack's planet looks like it was blown up by the Death Star?
I'm not quite sure the boys understood the moon description assignment.
Descriptions: Henry's This is really hot, Jack's I like to eat the moon.
In art at home news, I attempted to use face paint to turn Henry into a red puppy dog, the boys attempted to turn me into modern art:
Jack using a toy shark to "trim" my nails while it appears I'm not buying Henry's story:
The boys like to play hair salon. Over their strenuous objections, their un-fun parents do not allow them to use scissors.
We later went to Costco in our face paint and got a thumbs-up from the employee at the door.
Jack, delighting in spraying Henry's hair. Henry, being Henry.
Henry carefully brushing Jack's hair:
We never hold still for long, though.
Henry in an impromptu footrace with Jack's dump truck. Going, going, gone!
