Boy mania

I am surrounded by boys. Kismet is my only female housemate, and I don't think that counts. I'm constantly stepping over trucks, balls and dinosaurs.

Although I dream about being into my diaper-free years, I can't imagine what the state of the bathrooms will be like then. Perhaps I should have relented when Chris wanted to install a urinal?

He, Mr. Gut-Wound, "just recovered from obstruction" boy, is out playing soccer. Is this wise? No. Does the only female voice (ie: voice of reason) have any control over this testosterone-y behaviour. No.


Charley now laughs when he farts. I would say "toots" except what he produces warrants something more stark than that. I blame his father. I won't be surprised if Charley finally begins speaking with the phrase his daddy repeats to him every time someone breaks wind: "Better out than in!". Even Sam had a glint of amusement in his eye when he joined the fun today. I'm doomed. Family car trips? Fuh-gediboudit.


Still, they're a pretty cute bunch. Here are some random, not-too-exciting shots:

Giant bouncer-boy.

They may not look alike, but they both know how to give Mommy the stink-eye for taking too many pictures.
P.S. Did you know that toddlers turn into demons? Case in point below:

Yeah, like the shirt say: Trouble... expect some.

Two, so far, has been allll about exerting one's independence. Strollers? No! Clean face? Never! Bedtime? You must be joking?!

Makes me wonder if we should even invest in a double stroller, or whether we should roll the money over to have a custom harness rigged up that I can attach to Charley to pull me and Sam! (Perhaps Kismet can get in on the fun?)

That's all from here. Must scoot off to bed.