A Case of the Naughties

I have pretty good kids.

They are cute and charming and the apple of my eye.

But I should mention that they can sometimes be positively naughty.

Like last Friday for example.

Now, I make an honest effort to get in the shower everyday.

And for you young mothers out there, you know that sometimes that feels like a small miracle.

Well, that day, I should have skipped mine.

I enjoyed that shower, 

but I sure didn't enjoy cleaning fingernail polish out of the carpet when I got out.

Although, let's go ahead and give credit where credit is due.

Bradley (who is 4) painted his and Aubrey's toes and fingernails with surprising precision.

I must admit that I was mildly impressed...

right after I nearly laid an egg right there in the family room.

Curse you blue finger nail polish!

Well, after feverishly working to remove the stain in the carpet

(and trying to think happy thoughts!)

I went upstairs to look for those two little devils darlings.

I heard giggling coming from Bradley's closet.

I slowly opened the door to see Aubrey throw her hands out and yell

"TA! DA!"

And then Bradley slap his hands over his eyes.

Which is a sure sign that: 

A) He was being naughty

B)  He KNEW he was being naughty

C)  He thinks I'll never know...because obviously I can't see him there.

Sheesh.

Can't we spread out the naughtiness a little?

Two biggies in one day is definitely over quota.

Scars

You know, I have never had to have stitches due to an accident.

And I'm turning 30.

My boys however have already managed to acquire a few battle scars.

Are boys just genetically wired to injure themselves?

Yes, I think they must be.

Here's our latest wound story.

The kids were in the backyard playing while I was on the phone and 

Dave was planning Family Home Evening.

My conversation was interrupted when Dave asked if I'd like to have Bradley stitched up.

Wait, what?!

I came downstairs to find Bradley crying and bleeding.

Definitely not a good combination.

I checked out the cut and decided that since it was on his face and laying wide open that we better take him in to have it checked.

[Insert groan]

As it turns out Bradley basically hit the jackpot.

He got to stay up late, eat popsicles and play Angry Birds.

Oh and get his forehead smeared with glue.

He had the nurses ooing and ahhing and nearly got his parents reported to CPS.

Apparently when Bradley says, "Jack hit me" it sounds a lot like "Dad hit me."

Dave stepped in and cleared that one up.

Yeesh.

Dave says that amongst "the special people" also at the ER last night that Bradley was kind of like a little breath of fresh air so the nurses kept watching him and laughing about his funny little personality.

Bradley sat in his assigned chair in the waiting room with his shifty little eyes looking around wondering what exactly was going on. 

One of the nurses came up and asked Dave if Bradley was always this good at home.

Before Dave could say anything Bradley replied with his simple, "Yes."

Riiight.

He ALWAYS sits so perfectly still, doing exactly what he should.

The story I am putting together is that Jack was making it rain by filling up a glass cereal bowl with water and then throwing the water into the air.

Apparently the bowl slipped out of Jack's hand, flew through the air and broke on Bradley's head.

Seriously?

Brooklyn (the Rockstar) said she pulled a chunk of bowl out of Bradley's forehead.

Have I ever mentioned what a wonderful Mother she will make one day?

So instead of having a lovely lesson on Baptism for Family Home Evening, 

we talked about how we don't throw bowls at people's heads 

and made get well soon cards for the victim.

Which lovingly included a drawing of a frightening looking ET character.

Complete with a brain.

(Jack claims that it was a sitting red chameleon...random) 

In the end, we are very grateful that it was nothing worse.

A $300 glob of glue is about all we can take.

Le Artiste'

At the Bowen home, there seems to be something about being three.

Being three and being drawn to Sharpies.

Oy.

Maybe not my favorite thing.

Well, besides potty training that is.

Which we are also experiencing with the little artiste'.

Oh yeah, that's the guy.

I'd know him anywhere.

Beautiful blue eyes, birthmark on his forehead, and mascara on his face.

Wait, what?

Apparently he has expanded his use of art mediums.

And on a side note, doesn't this picture make him look like a Bobble-head?

Seriously, I would love to have that little face bobbing at me while I'm cruisin'.

Ahem....anyway, back to the artwork from the infamous artiste'.

(If you read it with a French accent, it sounds way cooler.)

There were many works of art that I could have chosen to display,

but here is his finest work.

His bedroom door.

At least he makes it personal though, right?

I mean, these pictures clearly aren't meant for just anyone.

He was being very considerate in thinking about what picture

would mean the most to his dear old parents.

He took no less thought when he also got his dresser,

my kitchen counters,

my kitchen cabinets,

his bedroom carpet,

his baby sister,

aaaand the interior of my in laws car.

Naughtiness.

 I know what you're thinking.

Uh, Hello! 

PUT.THE.MARKERS.UP.HIGH.

But you guys don't know what I am up against. 

We are talking about a

gold-medalist-climber-part-ninja-child

who can create an extraordinary mess without making a sound

and can look (and act) incredibly adorable and innocent.

I mean, he's so good that you don't know the damage is done

until after you've already given him a cookie for being such a good and quiet little boy.

Right.  Quiet.

You'd think that by now I would remember that as lovely as a moment of quiet is,

Ninja + Quiet = 1 box of Magic Erasers and lots of elbow grease

Note to self:  Do NOT give cookies to the small boy without first inspecting the premise.

Lying

I've got a little problem at my house.

Actually, make that two.

Problem A: Lying

Problem B: "bathroom laziness"

Combine those two?

Oy.

I do have to give Jack a little credit though - he is very entertaining with his cleverly fabricated stories.

I mean I've heard all the little ones like,

"No Mom, I didn't push Bradley - he just ran into the wall himself."

Or, "Uh, yes Mother, of course I put my laundry in the drawer."

But today he really thought up a goody.

He came in from the backyard with wet pants (again...sigh).

Before I even noticed he said,

"Mom, um, today at school (3 hours earlier) the teachers turned on the water and my pants got wet."

[Insert lifted eyebrow from Mother (me).]

"And Mom, their water smells like pee."

What's a mother to say to that?

Gosh he's funny.

So what do you mothers do to turn the tides on those little white lies?

That'll be $8.25, Mam.

I'm thinking that Jack and the public library don't mix.

A visit about 2 years ago resulted in me (8 months pregnant)

running across the library with Jack in my arms bleeding and crying.

He ended up with 2 stitches in his forehead. 

I told him at least 3,000 times not to run in the library...

After that, most attempts at library storytime left me frustrated

watching the other kids listen and sing,

while Jack insisted on figuring out how the miniature computer worked.

Most recently though I bravely took all 4 monsters to collect a few new bedtime stories.

(You can only read the same books so many times, you know)

My 10 minute experience sounded something like this,

"Bradley get back here." 

"Yes Brooklyn, you can get that book." 

"Bradley get down." 

"Do you want this one Jack?" 

"Where's Bradley?" 

"Quiet down, guys." 

"Don't touch that Bradley." 

"That one is way too long." 

"No running Bradley." 

"You can each pick 1 more."

"Bradley?"

"Whew - let's get out of here."

It felt kinda like an 8 mile run.

Not that I would know.

Anyway, I left that place with some pretty exciting reading material.

Like, "Citrus Growing in California"

I was pretty excited about the idea of Dave reading that book.

But Jack apparently felt differently.

Look at that frown.

Obviously Jack has no love for agricultural publications.

Ya, well, I have no love for paying for library materials

that have been defaced by my children.

I'm watching you

The children at this house are trying to give me nightmares.

I pulled back my covers the other night to find this:

Just perched up my on my pillow like a little mint.

Two beady little eyes just staring at me.

Who does that?

Disturbing, to say the least.

Bradley, oh Bradley

Remember this little fella?

Sigh.

See how he looks all sweet and innocent?

It's all part of the con people.

Be careful what you believe.

Although, I must admit that he is sweet.

One of the sweetest I know.

In fact, he shows us his love and sweetness in ways we'll never forget.

For example,

nothing says "I love you" like a little turn of the big red knob.

Dave has enjoyed the gift of an ice cold shower at least twice.

Thank you Bradley.

But I'm not gonna lie, I thought it was a teenie weenie bit funny.

Since it wasn't me.

I had to thaw Dave out with the hair dryer.

Which was also funny.

Like, really funny.

I was laughing hysterically and he was blue and shivering.

A perfect start to my day.

So let me say it again.

Thank you Bradley.

P.S.  I should mention that I have since removed the knob all together. 

We can't have the tables turning on me, now can we?

My day of "rest"

Today was Stake Conference. 
And unfortunately Stake Conference usually = exhaustion.

Trying to keep 4 small beaners quiet for 2 straight hours can be a little rough.

But, 3 bags of Fruit Loops later, we made it.

Bradley only fell on his head once, Brooklyn only flashed her too small tights once, and Jack only had to sit in "The Bush" once. 

("The Bush" is timeout at church.  ha ha  I wonder what others think when they hear us say,

"Jack - do you need to go sit in the bush?) 

Really though, it works.  I love the bush.

Anyway, when we got home from SC I decided that I needed a little recharge.

So by George, I took it.

And it was lovely.

Aubrey was sleeping.  Jack and Bradley were quiet in their room and Dave was coloring princess pictures with Brooklyn.

Peace. And. Quiet.

I awoke about 1.5 hours (1.5 hours!!) later and walked down the hall with a new spring in my step.

That is until I passed the boys room.

Oh yes.  That would be the contents of the forbidden art box - mysteriously lowered from it's very high shelf.

But that weee little mess wasn't really the problem.

I was a bit more concerned about

the fairly large amount of acrylic paint all over the carpet.

Oh, and this

I love permanent markers, don't you?

They are so useful for defacing your mother's property.

I thought it was a nice touch for Jack to draw a self portrait complete with an autograph.

This dresser could be worth millions someday.

But until then, it will only be a reminder of why we shouldn't purchase anything of real value until our youngest child is 18.  (My mother gave me that advice.  Such a wise woman she is.)

My first thought was that Jack had carried out this mischief alone because I saw Bradley peacefully sleeping on the couch.

But upon removal of his beloved blanket - the truth was made known unto me.

Uh huh.  Nice try pal.  I'm not that clueless.

I am still not sure how they got that box down.  And I'm afraid that I don't really want to know. 

But the box has now been moved to a new remote location.

The good bad news is that acrylic paint comes off skin a lot easier than it comes out of carpet.

You know what though,

I think the nap was worth it.

Does anyone want a sneak peek at our family pictures?

Go here