Our bedtime routine takes about an hour. To get all three boys corralled, bathed, teeth brushed, stories read, cuddles, and settled in their beds, this takes an hour. On a good day. With no interruptions. Or barfing.
So, tonight I was on my own as Brent is working nights. I had just finished bathing Riley and came around the corner near the stairs, and saw this: Matthew climbing the railing of the stairs with a slinky wrapped around his neck. About to commit suicide.
"MATTHEW WHAT ARE YOU DOING?????????????!"
"Uh, uh, uh, uh, me fly!"
Flying? You are going to fly? Off the banister of the stairs with a slinky wrapped around your neck? OMFG. And I don't mean the slinky was wrapped like a loose necklace, I mean that one single coil was tightly wound around his thin little neck.
If this little boy makes it to adulthood alive, it won't be for lack of trying to do otherwise.
Anyone wanna harbour a guess as to why I might not want to have any more children??