Please don't call child services!

I'd been planning about posting something adorably entertaining, like a story about Isabelle Kate's growing (fierce) independence, which would've been titled, "Mumma, I do it."  And I would have written all about her twenty minute attempts at pulling up her little socks, her crazy-mad obsession with zipping her pants, her coat, her pajamas, her sweatshirts- her everythings, and of course I'd have included a clever tale about her newest fixation: brushing her hair (sometimes mine, and I love it!) all by herself and putting in her own pretties (barrettes, clips and bows) with the biggest grin imaginable.

We hear the phrase "Mumma, I do it" a LOT around here these days.  :)

But alas, the events of last night have taken center stage for the time being, and brave soul that I am, I thought I'd share.  Please promise not to make that call, k?

We had just finished cleaning up after dinner and I was working on my...thing, but the boys were demanding my attention like mad, and positively driving me insane with their wrestling, jumping, boxing, and general testosterone-driven mayhem.  Just so you know, we had spent tons of time making treats, eating treats, playing and conversing earlier in the afternoon, so they hadn't been overly ignored or anything.

Anyhoo.

In one of those split second say-out-loud-what-you're-thinking moments, before you have the chance to actually think it through, I may have muttered something about taking their battle of strength outside to see just how invincible they were.  And I may have proposed some ridiculous, shocking contest to see who could last the longest...in his underwear...outside in the yard.

I remember laughing at the absurdity, thinking they would see right through my jest, have a chuckle and quit the bickering about who was strongest, smartest, cutest, bravest, most creative, tallest, biggest.....but they were too busy stripping down before my very eyes and flinging themselves out the door onto the snowy ground to notice the jesting part.

Now here's the part that troubles me a little bit: I let them do it.  In fact, I thought it was really funny, so funny that I grabbed the camera to record it forever.  You should have heard their squeals of mad delight!  They were having a blast!  And they weren't arguing.....

  

Ethan was way too cool to stoop to his little brothers' level until they actually did it, and then he couldn't help himself- he stripped down FAST!

(I figure this is the last pic of this big boy in his undies that I can share, sigh, since he's getting older and I think it crosses the line between cute and yuck when they're older...)

Their escapade outside lasted all of 60 seconds, and they came in shivering but completely happy and animated.  Problem solved.  Or on hold.  They head upstairs to start getting ready for bed (it was kinda late, for us anyway.)

Suddenly, I notice that it's quiet.  Too quiet.  In a panic I realize that I haven't seen Isabelle for quite a while.  I had no idea where she was...until I remembered that she'd gone downstairs to The Pit to play with her big brothers.  Man oh man!  It's chilly down there, there's a ton of stuff that I don't want her curious little brain conspiring to get into, and there are a few things that are just outright dangerous to her.

Bill was closer to the basement door so he went down in search of our princess.  I heard his laughter all the way upstairs- she'd been playing Mama to her babies and had the family all lined up around her, reading and singing to them, which was sweet but not the entire reason for his laughing.  I'll let you see for yourself.

So between encouraging my three boys to turn themselves into skivvy-wearing ice-pops and totally forgetting about a little girl in a potential mine field of danger for an hour or so, I won't be expecting to receive any particular parenting honors any time soon.

And if someone from child services comes knocking on my door, I'll know one of you ratted me out, and I'm not answering!  Ha Ha

 

look at the hood under the hat!!  ha ha ha ha