This afternoon I was in the car with all the kids going through a drive-thru restaurant to get my $1 large unsweet ice tea. It’s a daily ritual. Sometimes twice a day. Anyway, the kids have been particularly wound up the last few days and being in the car with them is, shall we say, “challenging.” I was, I admit, a bit fed up with them as the clock on the car was indicating it was nearly 5pm in the evening. So then my jokester says to me…
Dumpling #2: “Mommy, what’s that under there?” while randomly pointing toward the front.
I say: “Under where?”
Peels of boy laughter erupts from the way back. I immediately realized the trap I’d fallen into. I didn’t think he was old enough to know that one yet (he’s 7). Apparently 7 is old enough to know that gag.
I do have to admit, it did make me smile and lightened the mood in the car a bit. Until Dumpling #4 began poking Dumpling #1 and loud protests ensued. Seriously, what is it about boys and not being able to keep their hands to themselves? Why must they constantly poke, pinch, punch, pull hair, and wrestle each other to the ground? My sisters and I never did this. It’s behavior that is completely foreign to me and it drives me crazy.