We've had a really rough week in Boogerland. I'm not going to get into the details right now, but all of us could use some extra snuggles.
So when the boys were both crying after lights-out tonight, I caved in and announced "Peanut butter sandwich!"
No, it wasn't a nighttime snack. That's what we call it when the three of us - or four if Daddy joins us - snuggle together on our big king-sized bed.
There are two rules to peanut butter sandwiching:
1. Keep your head on the pillow. (I can't sneak away - or breathe very well - with two boys draped over me.)
2. NO making noise. (It used to be "No talking," but they would hum and bang things and give each other raspberries - which got them riled up instead of calmed down.)
Well, somewhere in the shuffle of getting Mo down from his bunk bed and Curley from his crib and making the important decision of who was going to be the bread and who would be the peanut butter - we somehow lost Mo's sippy cup of water.
Quite upset, he searched his room high and low.
After several minutes, he appeared in my doorway, shoulders slumped.
"What's wrong? Couldn't find it?" I asked.
He threw up in his arms in frustration. In a very serious, almost reprimanding tone, he says, "See Mom? I told you there was a monster under my bed!"
11 months ago