A post over at my sister Ood's blog a while ago reminded me that I never really write about our kids. I'm not sure why, since there are three of them, and they don't really fade into the background very well. In fact, unless they are sleeping, they never stop, and you can always hear them, very clearly. If they are in the same room as you, you can be assured that things will be broken, shrieking will be heard, and injuries will be sustained. Anything that is done or in order will be undone. Children are only comfortable when there is nothing left in the room to be dragged onto the floor, pushed over, knocked off a table, or destroyed. Picture frame on a table? Floor. Cup full of water? Floor. Toys actually in the toybox? Scattered randomly (yet somehow almost equidistant, so as to cover more square footage) on the floor.
This is why our children are now known as the Miniature Anarchy Circus™. Not that they are so different from other children, but they are indeed a circus, who subscribe to no political system or belief, except anarchy. They are all little (yet not as little as some other kids), and unbelieveably cute. I love the Miniature Anarchy Circus™.
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1 comment:
This post terrifies me.
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