overheard at my house:
“He’s waving the electric knife at me!”
“This kid is out of control. He needs to be broken before he can play with normal people.” (an older brother referring to a younger one– who’s out of control?)
“You bought waterballoons for him? That proves you don’t love me!”
me– “I am going to my closet to change into jeans. For the next sixty seconds I need you to all refrain from jousting, bossing each other around and hitting each other. Understood?”
Clearly, I underestimated the energy burned at school and at the boys endless sports practices and games. I’d forgotten the INTENSITY of summer; the constant vigilance required to make sure that no one kills each other. It’s not that they are bad boys. They are simply boys and the combined testosterone levels in my house right now are surely measurable just in the air.
All the cute neighborhood girls are hosting little summer camps. Is this a tradition in your area? Princess camp, music camp, crafts camp… (I would certainly send Mary to one if I could trust myself to pick her up when it’s over.) My boys decided to pass around their own flyer.