After an intense week of online Kindergarten I was eager to just play with my boys over the weekend. We went on a picnic and played outside…and baked.
Chocolate and butterscotch chip cookies were the goal. But baking with 3 boys ages 5.5, 3.5, and 1.5 is an enlightening experience. The recipe called for 3 eggs, one for each boy to crack. The big boys did great but then the time had come for sweet boy #3 to crack his egg. Carefully carefully he tapped it on the edge of the bowl, then when a small crack appeared he held it out over the mixing bowl and crushed it into microscopic pieces with his tiny hand. Then I caught him scooping out piles of brown sugar and licking them off the counter, then he poured a mug of water into our dough. Combined with the standard tantrums and attempts to lick the mixing spoons it made for an adventurous cooking experience.
Also a glorious announcement! Sweet boy #3 went poop and pee on the potty for the 1st time! A landmark day to be sure.
But the winner this week. I walked into the bathroom and beheld the aftermath of some sort of sordid crime. A mug lay broken in the tub, the handle pieces completely gone. Had they been eaten, flushed, beamed into space? A full roll of tp sat on the counter, soaked completely. And judging by the distinct yellow hue of the liquid, whoever was dipping it into the toilette had gone potty before all of this began. And finally inside the soggy roll of tp was a kitchen spoon bent in half. Strange times. Strange times indeed.