Okay, so here’s another post that probably ought to have gone up 4 months ago, but somehow sat at the bottom of a pile of dirty posts, waiting for some spring cleaning.  Shortly after Laura abandoned us to our fate, my Mom and stepfather came out to watch the boys for a few days, before Malin arrived.  One afternoon, I’d just gotten home from work, and we were sitting out in the living room playing with the boys, when Carter and Marilyn stopped by.

Carter was about to park in the wrong spot, so I leaned out the front door to ask him to move to another spot, and then turned back inside.

5 seconds later, my Mom and I heard a muffled screaming – we had no idea where it was coming from, until I glimpsed Nicholas out of the corner of my eye, out on our sidewalk.  I’d leaned out the front door, with one hand on the door handle the whole time, and he’d perfectly timed his escape, slipping behind me before I noticed, closing the door behind him.  He saw Grandma and Grandpa French, and walked straight toward them, oblivious of the concrete steps.  He fell.  He had a nasty bump on his forehead, a scratch on his cheek, and another on his chest.  :(

I hate being a Dad some days, especially when the bumps, bruises, abrasions, punctures, contusions, concussions, incisions, and amputations are entirely my fault…

I’m thinking about buying them body armor for their birthday.  Sound like a good idea?

One of the cook things about the boys growing up is that they can *almost* be helpful now.  *almost*.  They’ll take their clothes and put them in the dirty clothes bin (and then Dexter will bring the clothes back to you, then his brothers clothes, then the bin), stuff clean diapers into the diaper pail, put away their books after reading time, feed themselves certain foods (and coincidentally will also stylize their own hair with their patented organic hair gel), wash windows, and most recently, yard work.  Just look how helpful they were a few days ago when the yard was in desperate need of mowing?

They only have one little-man sized lawn mower, but I get tired of mowing sometimes, so the boys help push.

And have I ever mentioned just how devious my darling beloved wife is?  She actually has a note from the doctor, excusing her from mowing the yard.  And in fact, instructing that I must strip upon re-entering the home, and immediately proceed to the shower, which is bloody awkward when we have company, but you have to listen to your doctor, right?