There are moments in any parenting adventure where you are faced with the very real prospect of crying and laughing at the same time. With three boys, I think that my number of occurrences may actually end up slightly ahead of the average bear.
This past Wednesday morning Mrs. B and I were faced with one such event. Mrs. B and I are not what you would call morning people, but that hasn't stopped our boys from all waking up at some very early hours. Thankfully the Twin-kies are pretty well contained since they haven't yet figured out how to climb out of the cribs (by writing that phrase, I have now guaranteed that they will learn this new trick in under a week), and the Boy is pretty good at finding what he needs (food, remote, etc.) to keep himself happy in the morning.
Before you get all self-righteous about the fact that I allow my child to get up and turn on the TV and feed himself before I even greet him in the morning, consider that the one year Mrs. B and I actually commuted together, we didn't actually talk in the morning. I say this just to fully illustrate how much we aren't morning people. Besides, we figure we are teaching him self-sufficiency and responsibility (or at least that is what we tell other people when they look at us with judgmental eyes). The reality is that sometimes he gets up, gets his brothers up, and is potentially up to mischief for about a solid hour, before we get up. Most mornings, at worst, we have to deal with his screaming brothers because they are frustrated that he is messing with them since they can't get out of their cribs (yet)!!! However, other mornings are not so forgiving.
When I awoke this past Wednesday I took a shower right away, knowing the boys were already awake because I could hear them chattering away. They seemed fairly subdued compared to other mornings (note to self this isn't a good sign). As I walked out to pack my lunch in the kitchen I was greeted by the Boy.
"Hi Dada, guess what? I found the perfect snack for me and my brothers . . . and Como (our Lab puppy)."
Little could prepare me for what I found -- certainly not the exploded bag of Cheese-ITs earlier in the week, not the Boy climbing on top of the washer to get down "Pirate Booty” and certainly not the fact that the dogs can, and do, get to pretty much anything in the house.
What I walked in to find with Mrs. B made us both want to laugh and cry all at the same time. The Boy had gotten out the gallon of strawberry ice cream (with spoons . . .I mean we are civilized) and was feeding it through the bars to each of his younger brothers who were thankfully caged (I mean, in their cribs). Although the Twin-kies were covered from head to toe with sticky ice cream, they were still both using their spoons. Como was also covered because she had spent the last 30 minutes neck deep in a melting tub of ice cream. Mrs. B wanted to cry because we were faced with the reality of rewashing pretty much everything in the room, but at the same time it was pretty funny. Unfortunately it was time for me to head off to work, so I bounded out the door with a “Ta Ta!” All the judging mothers out there should know that I was struck down with a massive migraine about two hours later, so I guess it all evened out.