Pride Goeth Before a Fall, Or Disappeareth After

Tonight I was talking on the phone when I heard a loud crash from above, followed by Jacob's unmistakable cries of fear/pain. I assumed he had fallen out of bed. I promptly ended my call and made my way upstairs to re-settle him. Scott, who had been asleep himself in the next room, was already there - pulling Jacob feet-first out of his laundry hamper. Confused, I tried to make sense of what my eyes were telling my brain I was seeing. A quick glance around the room offered some clues as to what had transpired.

Clue #1 - dresser drawer open
Clue #2 - drawer stuffed with dirty laundry
Clue #3 - almost empty laundry hamper
Clue #4 - Jacob stuck head-first in laundry hamper

Poor Jacob. Falling out of bed is one thing... falling head-first into your laundry hamper has to be a bit embarrassing.

Martha My Way

Last night I had an idyllic evening with my kids. We started out covering the dining room table with paper and then making a simple craft that involved glue and was therefore guaranteed fun. While our glue dried, we moved to the island and made, as a group, pizza dough. Both Jacob and Hannah made their own mini pizzas that they kneaded and rolled out. Hannah's was shaped like a twisted figure 8, and Jacob's was somewhat circular. Both objects of extreme pride. They sauced them, added pepperoni, and then topped with cheese. By the time we were done we were all covered in flour. And as I looked around at the mess we had made, at our unfinished craft on the table, at our smiling faces, I realized - this is my version of Martha.

Not quite magazine-worthy, but memorable nonetheless. And I don't think I would trade the fun we had for a gourmet meal or an exquisite craft. It was just me being me with my beautiful children. Even Martha can't compete with that.

Recidivism at its Cutest

Lately Jacob has been having some issues with keeping his little hands off of things that he shouldn't be touching. It seems like every time I look at him, he is doing something he shouldn't be doing - and he knows it. When caught, he immediately reconfigures his face into an "ooops-I-know-I'm-in-trouble-look".

Today he found it particularly difficult to behave. At the babysitter's house, he broke a mirror when he was supposed to be napping. When I told him on the car ride home that I was very upset with him for breaking the mirror, he replied: "Otay, mom. My will buy a new one." But he said it, if you can imagine, with a little bit of attitude. Then, his ever-generous sister added that she would give him the money from her piggy bank because she had "tons of money in there" since she'd been "collecting it everyday".

After we got home, Jacob committed a string of offences that eventually led him to a time-out on the stairs. When I talked to him about it, he readily offered a "sorry" and a hug. I then asked, "Are you going to keep touching things and breaking them?" He nodded. "You are?" I asked, incredulous. "Yes," he admitted. And then he hugged me again and offered another extremely cute apology.

Convinced he had misunderstood, I tried rephrasing. But no matter how I put it, he unequivocally indicated he would continue touching things he shouldn't. And he seemed so sincere. He knew he was in time-out. He knew he was in trouble. But he just couldn't bring himself to lie. So I released him. My little recidivist.