166. Body Count

Sister time is great. Cousin time is dangerous. Case(s) in point:

-In the first hour of being together without the immediate presence of their mothers (grandpa was babysitting and forgot that parents can't go to the bathroom), the boys (mostly Thomas) hoses down the entire kitchen and dining area and about half the living room. Luckily, the electronics were on the opposite side of the living room. Body count: one framed artwork.

-Berto pulverized a muffin. Seriously, crumbdust. I set it down with the intent to give him pieces, but I chose to put the rest of the muffins away before feeding it to him. That was my mistake. In the time it took me to get the muffins in the mini fridge, Berto destroyed his Costco-sized confection. It was awesome, terrifying, and impressive all at once. Body count: one muffin, Berto's hunger

-The Zoo: I don't know all the details of this event, but I do know that they were naughty enough that the men in charge did not let them stay to play in the park area. Body count: Grampy's patience.

-Day three features my dad taking Janie and Thomas to church by himself. My dear son aimed for the toilet, but hit grampy. Body Count: One freshly dry-cleaned suit.

-You would think that by Monday, we mothers would have figured out that the boys should not be left alone together for very long. Alas, we were enjoying our freedom a little too much. I can't even blame this one on having to go to the bathroom. Elle (Danny's mom) and I  were enjoying a pleasant, kid-free conversation when we heard the dreaded sound of tinkling breakable materials. Suddenly the couch cushions were hot potatoes and our buns bounded right off them. We scurried after the sound and walked in on Thomas wielding an handmade, antique, but very sturdy, rolling pin. He had it raised in both hands high above his head, ready for the burst of energy that would bring its downfall. Elle yelped at him to stop and, thankfully, he listened. We managed to get the two boys (and the now very curious Janie, Berto) out of the room. The target of Thomas's attempted bludgeoning was a pile of shattered china doll, his handiwork. The best we can figure (or hope) is that Thomas and Danny were climbing the boxes in the closet and knocked one over. As it fell, the china doll fell out and broke. Thomas's curiosity got the better of him and he just couldn't wait to see how it worked. Danny, also curious, watched and encouraged the destruction. We suspect this chain of events to be accurate because none of the several other fragile antiques or papers in the box were at all harmed. The box was immediately moved into the grandparents' bedroom. Body Count: one egg-holding china doll, a moment on Antiques Roadshow.

I'm only halfway through our vacation at this point, folks. 

The next three days of cousin fun brought less-large-scale adventures but plenty more small-scale moments. These include but are not limited to the following:

-Several tantrums and emotional breakdowns regarding carseats, seatbelts, and general travel tears. Body Count: many many many tears.

-A giant exercise ball getting thrown into a table lamp, knocking it over. Luckily, the lamp in question was made of sturdy metal and the oversized lampshade protected the bulb, thereby keeping the item intact. Body Count: 1 six-year-old ego.

-Toilet paper (or lack thereof) troubles. Body Count: Three toilets in need of plunging, three walls, one countertop, one cupboard door, one green stool, two full rolls of toilet paper, and two washclothes.

-The Ranch Dressing Pool (see post 164. "Thomas and the Paper Plate"). Body Count: About 1/4cup unsalvageable dressing, Thomas's condiment privileges.

-The Highchair Pair. We have two highchair-aged babies but only one highchair. This has mostly resulted in Berto and James taking turns eating. Occasionally, though, they just couldn't wait and one would ear in the highchair while the other (usually Berto) sat beneath him, picking rejects off the floor. Body Count: caring.

-Thomas believing he was at a nude beach. Again I am willing to take partial blame on this one. When we went to the splash pad I packed a swimming suit for Berto and I instructed Janie to put hers on. Because I couldn't find Thomas's, I just decided to let him play in this clothes. What I DIDN'T think about was the return trip. Or the fact that Thomas would want to change into a swimming suit. So we were all quite surprised when suddenly my three-year-old was butt naked and running toward the water features. Go me. We did manage to get him to put his shorts and shirt back on, though we saved the underwear for afterward. Also, forgot to bring panties for Janie. Go Mom. Body Count: modesty.

-Thomas randomly biting other kids. Completely out of the blue. We were all lying around around, coloring a giant cardboard castle (because my mom is a cool grandma like that!) and all of a sudden he turns his body and bites down on Janie's arm. It left a bruise. Later the same evening he also bit Danny. Body Count: two arms.

-Thomas (anyone else seeing a pattern here?) hiding things in his pockets. We went to a children's museum and upon leaving discovered that Thomas had stuffed his pockets full of Checkers pieces. Apparently I didn't search him well enough though, because he handed me two more pieces once we were out of the building. Body Count: my dignity as a mother

-The ever-shrinking wardrobe. I packed enough clothing to last six days, though our trip is supposed to last nine. I figured Day six would be laundry day. By day four Thomas was completely out of clean clothes. I washed everything. Three days later he was out again. Body Count: my math skills, apparently.

-The Butt Paste: it was everywhere. Body Count: very high.

-Locked Doors: Someone (most likely Thomas) has been locking doors and then shutting them, from the outside. Body Count: 4 bobby pins, Grammy's patience.

-Latest, but probably not last was the Game Closet. Janie, Danny, and Thomas were told to clean up the room they've been sharing. Apparently they took that to mean "take half the games from the bottom shelf in the game closet and dump them on the bedroom floor, then mix everything up and throw it all around." Body Count: 

1 boggle die, 1 rummikub tile, 2 game boxes, and probably more pieces we don't yet know about..

We still have about 36 hours left until we head home, and then another 10+ hour car ride. Elle and I joked that the only thing left for them to do is break a bone (that was before the game closet incident). Hopefully it doesn't come to that.

All of this being said, I really do love my children and my nephews. They have had a wonderful time playing together. We have played hard every day and been worn out every night. We toured a C-130, colored a castle, went to the zoo, the splash pad, the park, and two museums. We've snuggled and hugged and tickled and had an absolute blast. This family is my everything and I wouldn't trade them for anything.