I'm a firm believer in magic. In fact, there has yet to be a day since these bratty boys came about where I haven't witnessed at the very least one magical moment.
I mean there could be a certain special smile, an especially musical butt blast (why are baby farts so cute?), a moment when the Pizzmeister says something sweet and endearing, or any moment with the boys really.
All these moments are special and magical. They all have a bit of a wondrous feel to them where I have to stop and ask myself, "What the hell have I done to deserve this?!"
I ask myself this a number of times everyday, and it is usually in the context of "How'd I get so damn lucky?!" but, to be honest, sometimes I ask it in exasperation too, which involves a fist shaking and hunched down shoulders in what I refer to as my "pose of resignation."
I won't lie.
There are times when these little guys drive me batcrap crazy, and I'll swear that they are masters of the dark arts because they have this awesomely wicked ability to transform themselves from little angels to evil little monkey trolls in seconds!
I mean, one minute the baby will be happy and giggling while the Pizzmeister is playing nicely off by himself, and then, out of nowhere, the baby will start shrieking for no reason while the big boy occupies himself with performing any number of the tricks and stunts that he routinely pulls.
He might be doing something as harmless as making a race track for his itty bitty monster trucks or something more dangerous like arranging all the chairs in strategic positions through out the house to be used as some sort of crazy toddler obstacle course where he jumps from one to the other totally scaring the crap out of me.
I guess what I am really trying to say is he is always doing something. The key to guessing what he may be doing is to listen. If he is chattering to himself chances are he isn't doing something harmful, but the moment he stops talking you can bet he has some sort of crazy world dominating plot going on in his head, and he's about to start working some of his wizardry for evil purposes.
Like, making an impossibly huge mess!
OH THE MESSES THESE KIDS ARE CAPABLE IF MAKING!!!
It's not just the explosion of toys that is messy. It's the dishes.
There are always dishes to wash these days!
It's like they never stop eating!
I swear I just finish doing them and an hour later the sink is full again with dishes and bottles patiently waiting to be washed.
And, of course, I keep putting off doing them because for some reason I think that eventually I'll turn around and they will have washed themselves magically. Then, to my grave disappointment, I find that more have piled up somehow.
GODDAMN YOU DISHES FROM HELL!
**Insert the pose of resignation here**
WHY CAN'T YOU JUST TOSS ME A BONE HERE AND WASH YOURSELVES?!
I mean, after all, my day is full of magic moments anyway. What's one more right?