Sink or Swim

Sully has turned into Lassie in the past few days. It would be incredibly cute if it weren't followed by something incredibly (insert dangerous, expensive, or grotesque here).

On Sunday, for instance, while I was drawing a bath for the boys, trying to encourage William not to splash all of the water onto the floor and grabbing two pairs of pajamas, Sully tugged on my sleeve, looked at me with big brown eyes and said, "Mama."

I know the drill now, so I followed his little footsteps into the bathroom and crossed my fingers he was about to show me something he'd put in the bathtub (for instance, last week's "Mama" led me to a bathtub full of our pots and pans). But that's okay. In instances like this, I've lucked out, because all it takes is a little cleaning time and we're back to normal.

This wasn't one of those times.

I sighed, looked down at Sully's little finger pointing straight at the toilet and groaned. He opened the lid slowly, as if to say, "You won't believe this, Mama. This is something amazing."

"Ooooh," he said as he opened the lid, eyes on me. Look Mom. Magic.

And he revealed his Sleep Sheep sound machine. Sitting at the bottom of the toilet. The only toy that has helped me gain sanity in moments of craziness was sitting like a stone in toilet water. The only sign of life, little bubbles that floated to the top until -

My son reached in and grabbed it and held it out for me like a prize. "Mama," he said again and I groaned ... again. I put the machine on a towel because I couldn't bear with the thought of throwing it in the trash just yet -- the only toy that made a sound that didn't make me crazy.

In case you're wondering about what items sink and what items swim, thus far we have discovered that bottles swim, sound machines sink, Neosporin swims, and toilet paper, well, toilet paper clogs.

Stay tuned for future episodes of Lassie. Until tomorrow ...

Beauty, the Beast, and the Terrible Twos

Our children have turned into Beauty and the Beast. We have one child who is well behaved, and one child who ... well, you see, ahem. People warned me about the Terrible Twos. The thing is, that being completely inexperienced in the realm of Motherhood, I thought it would happen when the boys, well, turned two.

This is not true.

As of late, my little Sully has turned into what John and I lovingly call, "Our little demon." (Sully, if you by chance run across this blog one day, just let me know and I will buy you a present).

Sully spends nearly 80% of his days completely red in the face, furious with me for trying to put his shirt on, or take his shoes off, or put him in the bathtub, or take him out of the bathtub. He's angry at us when we try to feed him dinner, but more angry when we take his tray away.

The one thing I'm thankful for right now is that thus far, he seems not to have heard too many of Mommy's curse words, because I'm fairly certain I would have heard a whole slew of them last night when I was trying to put him to bed.

His brother Will, however, seems to be just fine right now (this will inevitably change as twins seem to have this superhero power way of saying, "I'm done. Your turn." when it comes to things like this).


Sully, we love you still, our little tomato, but if these bouts of demon last until you're 3, Mommy might take a little vacation to Mexico for just a teensy bit of time.

Until tomorrow ... (really this time. I started working on a book so I've been throwing some time to that, but I'll be back this time, barring any unexpected mental health breaks needed from Terrible Two parenting).