My first son was a little island of manhood in an ocean of sisters. My two younger sons are having a much different experience. They have their big brother who they can tag team - and then each other. At two and four, they're getting big enough to find each other the best of company and more often than not, we'll find them rolling around on the floor like a couple of little puppies - red cheeked in their underwear grunting - and i'm half way caught between shrieking, "Gentle with your baby brother!!" and, "C'mon, little e!! Get 'im, you can do it!!"
Having grown up in a family with three girls, i find them fascinating.
And maybe it's some gross oversight on my part, but so far they don't understand that mama is off limits. They'll tackle me from behind, take me down in the kitchen, do a cannon ball from the arm of the couch onto my lap and pummel me in the morning before i get out of bed.
So today - i was climbing up the stairs and sunshine boy leaped on me, forcing me to fall forwards. Before you could say, "ninja baby", Ephraim had climbed on my back and Gage was laughing at the bottom of the pile.
"Dog pile!" he shouted. Ephraim laughed gleefully while he clutched my back... but then Gage added the words that changed everything and convinced me that maybe we would do well to set a few limits - maybe my days of wrestling with my little boys should be nearing their end. Maybe there are aspects to joining this kingdom of boys that are not quite as charming...
"With farting!!" (Jubilantly)...
In other news, Cai texted me this morning: "I had another dream about my wedding last night, but I still don't know what my future husband looks like :/ hahaha."