Sweet Boy#3–Stumbles all sleepy-eyed out of bed in the morning and asks where his brothers are. I tell him that he is my early bird this morning and that his brothers are still asleep. He responds with a chorus of cheerful and expressive tweets and the tweeting continues throughout the day even inspiring a game in which all the boys tweet around the house being early birds going about their business.
Sweet Boy#2–I catch him at the table sucking up water out of the spout of his straw bowl with his nose.
Sweet Boy#2–Accidentally hits Sweet Boy#1 in the head with a golf club during an unsanctioned sword fight. Then he is upset that I am not pleased and throws his flip flops into the bushes. I make him apologize to his brother and use the restroom before we go to the lake. He is still upset over the unfairness of life and promptly removes his swim shirt and throws it into the urinal at camp. It is suspiciously wet when I retrieve it.
Sweet Boy#2–He is cutting on a cantaloupe with a butter knife and cuts his hand. It is painful and bleeds all over and to add insult to injury I have to capture him when he attempts to flee medical aid.
Sweet Boy#3–Later that same day I am unfortunately distracted by helping with the camp naming ceremony. The boys get the golf clubs out to play mini golf, which is alright…until more violence ensues and Sweet Boy#2 is whacked in the mouth with a golf club and gets a cut lip. I snuggle my boy, forcefully reinstate last year’s “No playing with the golf clubs” rule, and drag all of my boys home for a bath and an early bedtime. Excitement, thine name is “boy”.