Tonight, I'm standing on a step ladder looking for something in the top of Mic and N's closet (what it was escapes me... certainly lost it's importance immediately after the following event). The kids were out front, playing in the cul-de-sac with some of the neighbor kids. Bikes out, jump ropes jumping, SpongeBob somewhere in the middle of all of it was sticking out his tongue. All was well, or so we thought...
I hear Mic crying, which I should point out, isn't unusual for Mic. Very early in their lives, I so eleoquently nick-named them 'Bitchy, Whiney and Messy' in decending order (which, actually makes Mic 'Whiney' any way you look at it... poor middle-child!). The nics have stuck, not because they were particularly cute or anything, but simply because they continue to live up to them! Now, mind you, we don't actually *call* the kids by these names, nor do we use them around anyone else but each other and very close adult friends. I couldn't have called it any better, had I tried.
I digress... Mic's crying. I didn't rush to him or anything because a) it's Mic (see above) and b) my ever so attentive husband is in the garage, which is where I hear the cries coming from. Now, had I thought it through, I may have paid more attention to the whine, as while Steve was in the garage, the garage has recently become his workshop and while in said workshop, Steve has, at times, been known to get so wrapped up in what he's doing that it may take a time or three of calling his name (read SHOUTING) to get his attention. (I'll post more on this later, because we actually don't mind him ignoring us... you should see the work he produces!!)
So, I'm thinking Mic skinned his knee again, or N hit him, or Mac looked at him wrong... Steve'll deal with it. Then I hear, again from the garage, "JOOODDDIIIEEEEE!!!!!" This time, it's Steve. "What?!", I shout from the closet. "YOU NEED TO COME HERE!!!!" Great... so I climb down from the step-ladder to go tend to the crying, all the while grumbling to myself, "Why can't he just take care of it? What can be so earth-shattering that I'm needed at this instant?" At which point, my mind goes to, "Crap, if it's something so major that he actually *does* need me, what happened?" Fully expecting to see something tantamount to a compound fracture or a partially severed limb... I walk out to find this...
They found the mud 'pit' left from where the neighbor's camper was parked. I wish I'd had a video of them when I asked who's hair-brained idea *this* was... they all pointed at each other. I suppose it could have been worse!
So, as the title says... it's shower time!!!
Man, I love my kids :)
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