Monday, December 16, 2013

These boys!

Happy thanksgiving from the monsters and our messy house.

These boys of mine!  I tell you what...the closer we get to Christmas the more wild they get.

The big boys mailed letters to Santa.  They got letters back from the North Pole on Friday night in the mail.  Pretty exciting!  Elliott took his letter to his dad and said, "Dad!  These letters are not in your handwriting OR in mom's handwriting.  They must REALLY be from Santa."  I do not, in fact, know who they are from they must be from Santa, too.  And Santa has very feminine handwriting.

Every morning while driving Wyatt to school we drive past the Oquirrh Mountain Temple, and just south of the temple, in the dirt, is a large, long, bright orange tube sandbag.  It's been there since the summer, probably protecting a drain, or trying to direct water run-off somewhere else.  Anyway, Wyatt sees it every single morning and tells me, "mom, the worm is still there."  I tell him, every morning, that I think it's an orange sandbag.  He kindly disagrees and tells me, "Mom.  I'm pretty sure it has a head.  It's a worm.  Maybe though, it is so big it cannot really move so good."  Then, I ask him why it doesn't go underground to get out of the snow.  He simply says, "Maybe it likes the cold."

Quinner Quinner Chicken Dinner is officially walking everywhere as of about 2 weeks ago.  Walking is pretty liberating and it's saving his pants.  I've been mending holes in knees like crazy so now that there is no more crawling, the pants will survive!  He is such a funny kid, but lately he has figured out how to blink, loves to mimic anyone and anything, and is super into all animals, but mostly dinosaurs.  On Saturday night, Ross was trying to put Quinn to bed and it wasn't working.  He'd had a long and late nap, and the other boys were already out cold, so for a father and son activity they turned the tv on to find a movie.  Ross found Jurassic Park, right before the T-Rex attacks the little jeep things.  That boy of mine, who doesn't know what fear is, apparently hooted and hollered and made roaring sounds at the tv.  And shortly after the little frilled dinosaur ate Newman, he fell fast asleep.

Christmas cannot get here soon enough and I cannot wait to see their overwhelmed and emotionally charged faces all day long.  I can however, wait for the meltdowns that also come with Christmas.  I'd prefer to skip those all together.

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