Nate The Great Strikes Again

My darling third son has struck again! This past week has been a bit challenging. With the small break from school for the Thanksgiving holiday I was left with all four boyz for three full days. It took about four hours for the novelty of the brothers being together to wear off. Then the traditional boy rituals began.

We managed to power through. There were several time outs. Peppered with some very silly moments. I love it when they manage to come up with crazy and elaborate made up scenarios and play them out. I get great joy sitting in the next room and listening in on their little boy imaginations when they think I can't hear them. What they come up with I want to just remember for ever.

But at the end of the third day of Momma D and her boyz at home, late in the afternoon on Saturday, Nate had used up all of his reserves of good behaviour. He had, all in all, had a great day. He made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for everyone's lunch. Standing on a chair at the table, trying to get the leverage he needed to pry the sticky mass of peanut butter out of the jar with his knife and three year old arms. He had "played well with others" with a minimal amount of meltdowns. So when Eli started fussing and needed a diaper change upstairs, I went up without much thought.

I came back downstairs in a matter of a few minutes, clean and dry Eli slung on my hip. We were met in the living room by a dripping wet Gabriel. My first thought was I hadn't heard the shower go on. That thought was swiftly whisked out of my brain by the cackling of Nathan in the other room. I walked in to the kitchen to find him standing on a chair armed with the water sprayer from the sink.

His stunned look, frozen arms that were previously flailing and sprinkling the entire room in the process, said it all. I asked him what was going on. Why was there water all over the kitchen and the mudroom? Literally dripping off of the door frame. Oh, my imaginative son did indeed have an answer. "There was a fire. I saw it in my head. And I was a fireman like Daddy."

It took five full size towels and lots of little boy power. In the end we had to take the shoes we needed to wear for a party that night and toss them in the dryer, as they too had had a bit of a bath. And Nate learned his lesson when the toddling Eli came in to see the fuss and wiped out on the still wet floor. He felt so bad for his little brother. Hopefully the only firefighting that will be done by people in this household in the near future will be that done by Daddy D. That is if his fire boots and pants ever dry out. They were in the line of fire as well!