Little boys are weird

I always knew I wanted kids, but somehow I imagined myself with a large family of mostly girls. I am still sometimes surprised by the reality of life with four boys, and the huge differences between the boys and girls. I can't believe there was a whole generation back in the 70s and 80s that asserted that there are no innate differences between the sexes. And people say the drugs now are strong.

The kids had two days off from school this week - Monday for that trumped-up commercial joke of a holiday, Presidents' Day, and yesterday for...rain. Cold rain. Whatever. It's meant a lot of togetherness with public enemy number one, aka my 6 year old. Monday was possibly my worst day ever with him, which is certainly saying something. Yesterday was surprisingly not awful, leading me to hope that things were improving in the me-envying-mother-cats-who-can-eat-their-young area. Today, he has reverted to type, being mean as a snake to his brother, having extremely selective hearing, and throwing shit all over the house how hard is this goddamned rule DO NOT THROW SHIT IN THE HOUSE. We still have a broken window from 2 years ago - when home repairs are undertaken at this glacial speed, it's just good sense not to encourage projectiles in the house, right?

Against all logic, I let the 6 year old have two friends over for a sleepover tonight. Also against all logic, so far it's going really well. Sometimes adding kids really does make things easier (something I often tell people who seem surprised by our herd, but sometimes I wonder if it's true). Favorite moments so far include three half naked heathens streaking through the kitchen and into the bathroom, led by 6 year old yelling "follow me! into the shower!" A few minutes later, I heard the 4 year old tell his little brother, "push my nipple and see what happens." As of this typing, there is screaming and thumping coming from upstairs, but it seems to be of the happy variety. So far, anyway.