Today Jared asked me if he could wear clothes (pants and a shirt) over his PJ's to bed. ?? He says that he's cold at night. I suggested an extra blanket.
I asked Owen before bed if he'd put his dirty clothes into his hamper. He replied "Affirmative".
They begged and begged to watch the new Christmas DVD that I bought today. The Wonder Pets Save the Reindeer (or something to that effect). I come downstairs to work and I hear them up there giggling together - they're running back and forth to get cups of ice for while they're watching. Ice? Well, you see, ice doesn't spill, mom. Smart guys.
Owen is the master of the stall tactic at bedtime. Can we read a book? How about two? Brush my teeth again. Can I take a tubby? Tonight's request? "I can't go to bed yet. Please? Please can I stay up so that I can line up these trucks?" I look and there's an 8-foot traffic jam between his bed and his closet.
Jared found it hilarious tonight that he got the last bit of lotion on his face. The tube was almost empty, so I shook it, and when I squeezed out that last bit of lotion, he laughed at the -ahem- noise that it made, calling out to Owen "O-wie - the lotion farted on Mommie!"
You just haven't lived until the lotion has farted on you and you trip over an 8-foot long traffic jam minutes later.
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