Morning whiplash

Poor T had a 5am cab this morning, and the boys were up just before 6. I put O in bed with me with some milk and he happily cuddled and drank it up. It was so cute. He is still kinda baby-squishy which I just love and kept saying “I love you too, Mom.” Then Jack came in with a “speeding ticket” for me [you know, from his arsenal of police gear] and said it would be my last one because he loved me so much.

So I am feeling super warm and fuzzy and anticipating such a calm, commune-of-love type o’ morning. Oatmeal’s cooking on the stove, coffee brewing and then BAM.

“Noooo, I wanna touch your penis.” “No, you can’t, MOOOOOOOMMMMM.” “Where are my police pants?” “I really, really don’t see them.” “Mom, you have a penis?” “No, for the 1,000th time.” “Jack, please for the love go put on some underpants.” “No, you must have underpants on for breakfast.” “Please Mom, play funny piggies game.” “Hurt myself on the foot.” “This is your pointer finger, this is your ring finger, this is your middle finger” as if a) I didn’t teach them this information and b) haven’t known this for a lifetime. “Please, guys, stop talking so much and eat your breakfast.” “Mom, need a chainsaw.” “Mom, Oliver took all my paintbrushes.” “Kids, there are 30 paintbrushes, I think we can figure this out.”

You can imagine that some of the kumbaya’ness was gone after this onslaught. How(!) do people homeschool their kids??? Wow.