Boys WIll Be Boys Despite What Their Mom Makes Them Say

First … Cuddles update. I’m going to go meet her on Saturday morning. I talked with her foster mom yesterday. I will see if we click together. She is a bit shy of people so it will be a good sign if she warms up to me quickly. I’ll keep you posted.

On to a new subject — the post apocalyptic possibilities of vegetation infestation on the interior of woodland infrastructures. Or we could talk about my friend’s grandsons.

The boys (2 and 5) were here this weekend. They are definitely busy boys. The oldest, Cameron, insisted that the two of us play cops and robbers over and over and over again. I “chased” him through the house while he somehow managed to avoid being captured despite all my crafty moves. Then we played train and rocket ship and I can’t remember all of it. But, as is comment with little boys (and big boys) they would get made at each other and hit. Well momma wasn’t going to have any of that. The culprit had to go on a timeout and then come back and say (with a lot of coaching) “I’m sorry I hit you” and hug his brother. I watched this happen with each of the boys and I have to tell you it was a hoot because they may have said “I’m sorry I hit you” and hugged their brother but you could see that neither one of them was anymore sorry than they were geese. Given the opportunity they would, and did, do it all over again. I admire the discipline but it would have been more accurate to have them say “I’m sorry I hit you and got caught and had to have a timeout. And I’m sorry I have to hug you when I’d really like to hit you again.”

Also when I got to the house and saw Cameron he started to cry because he missed Freckles. That was so sweet. His brother, Bradon (they guy with Freckles), is the guy I gave a stuffed beagle to for Christmas and Cameron suggested we remove one if its back legs so it looked like Freckles. He calls his beagle Freckies. I told Cameron I might get a new dog and he was very happy about that.

Finally, a belated happy birthday to my friend Peter. His birthday was yesterday. He wasn’t at work so I’m assuming he was recovering from the weekend of partying. Peter is the youngest of something like 8 or 15 or 12 kids and I’m sure he is not stranger to sibling fighting.

Well on to work where I will spend 7.5 hours shoveling air.