This Kid

Jake has been cracking me up lately. I guess he is really just growing up before my eyes.

The other day he found his pocket knife that Grandpa Geoff gave him. He went directly outside and started carving knives out of sticks.

Will got a hold of it.

Will started carving as well and ended up cutting himself.

I flipped out.

I told them that niether of the boys were to use their pocket knives without adult supervision.

Jake responded.

"oh, come on mom. I am pretty much just like grandpa Geoff when it comes to pocket knives."

What do you mean Jake?

"I can pretty much do anything he can do with a pocket knife. I even know how to use it safely. I am not going to cut myself. I'm just like Grandpa Geoff."

(not a good case for yourself, kid)

Yesterday I was sick as a dog. I called the kids in from outside and made them sit on my bed and watch TV while I prayed for James to get home.

Ne Ne stayed with me but the boys went down on the computer.

All of the sudden I hear a frantic Jake yelling throughout the house calling for me.

I mustered my strength and called to him to come upstairs.

Of course he didn't come up. He just yelled.

"DO YOU HAVE NE NE?"

"Yes," I yelled back.

"PHEW. I was WORRIED SICK that she was gone. I've been looking EVERYWHERE for her."

I was just tucking the kids in bed and Jake says,

"you know, sometimes I wish you were the one that went to work because dad is the only one that like wrestles with us and stuff. Do you think you could go to work?"

Honestly kid. Seriously. Do you even want to go there?

First of all, your dad could never do my job...but even more so...I could never, ever do his job.

So I guess your stuck with a way boring mom who only takes you to the park, on hikes, let's you have parties with all of her clean blankets outside, let's you jump off the stairs onto a bed of pillows (your dad would never have let you done that, kid), lets you sleep in her bed when dad's not home, makes you three things to eat for dinner just so you don't starve to death...do you want me to go on?

I love you, Mooch