I don't claim to have perfect children. They are, after all, all boys. Generally, I consider them pretty well behaved. Adam always listens when you tell him to do something. Caleb... well he whines and cries. Still, they don't have any major disciple problems. Even their mischievous i-know-this-is-wrong-but-i'm-gonna-do-it-anyway moments are pretty tame. So, when I tell you my story, keep in mind that for them, this is about the worst thing they've purposely done.
It starts in the bathtub, as trouble often does. They bathe together and I let them play till they get nice and raisin-y. I check on them occasionally, but I can hear them from my room, so I don't worry too much.
They are bathing, having a grand old time. I go downstairs for 2 minutes to sweep the kitchen floor. Dust pan in hand, I hear a pitter-patter from above. Thinking Levi had miraculously grown muscles and coordination, I went to check the noise. I see one, two flashes of flesh. I'm not nearly as alarmed by that as by the things in their hands. What do they have?
Giggles are coming from the bathroom. Giggles, and an awful lot of splashing. I round the corner and they come into view. Both are now laying down in the bathtub, with blankets, pillows, toys, and worst of all: books. Books in the bathtub! They ruined 5 books, including a nice copy of Animalia, which is more mine and Kyle's than theirs. Everything was soaked.
I don't think I've been so mad at them. After getting the riff raff out of the tub, I finished washing the little devils and put them straight to bed. It was barely 6 o'clock.
The books were beyond helping. I tried to wring out the blankets, but eventually gave up. Instead I grabbed a laundry basket, transported them downstairs and put them in the washer. Pillows just had to dry out.
Now that it's been a few days and I no longer want to scream when I think about it, it's actually kind of funny. They wanted to read in the bathtub. It's cute, right?
Right???
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