See If You Can Do Better

I realize that many people are concerned about privacy here in the blogosphere. Even some of you, gentle readers. Some of you have private blogs. Some of you have code names for yourselves and your families. Some only use first initials for family members. And some of you don't talk about the children or just don't blog.
But here we're letting it all hang out and this is why: anyone who is still reading this has to have some connection to us or have some really awful cable choices. The only of our stalkers we don't know are the ones who live in New Zealand and if you guys want to come up here and kidnap our kids, you're going to have a large outlay in airfare just to begin. In fact, that might qualify you as better, more concerned, parents than we are right there.
The other reason I don't worry too much is that anyone who reads this does not particularly want our kids. You probably read this so that you can heave a sigh of relief and go back to your own set of trials renewed and refreshed. Case in point:
Some Sundays are warm and others are cold. Some Sundays we have plenty of time for a big breakfast, and other times we are grabbing plain bread and bananas as we rush out the door. One thing never changes, however -- Will complaining about his church clothes. It really doesn't matter what he has or what is clean or whether it fits. He'll find some reason to throw a hissyfit about it. If he can't complain about the clothes, then it's his hair he'll meltdown over. This Sunday Rob laid out clothes on the boys' bed and came into the living room. He sat down on the couch and started counting down: "five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . " and as if on cue, we heard Will in his room say "I AM NOT WEARING THAT SHIRT!!"
Will looked a little sheepish when he found out why we were all laughing in the living room. I expect he'll have forgotten by this weekend, though!
Lest you think we only pick on one kid around here, check out what happened while we were out for an hour on Sunday evening. This is why you don't want to hide the Halloween candy in the top of the closet. This is also why you don't want to hang from the curtain rod when you are twelve! Yes, it was Maddie who did this; not our first grader (not that Sebi wouldn't have done it if given a chance). So when we went to the temple on Tuesday, we took the candy with us in the minivan. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
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Comments

Jessica said…
OK, so maybe my own durn kids aren't sooo bad.
Brenda said…
That is hilarious that you took the candy with you!!! Hahahahaha. (And you better watch out, I may kidnap your cute kids for the afternoon - I am missing my grandbabies terribly)
Zina said…
I periodically feel guilty about using real names and real photos. But I also periodically feel annoyed or confused by people's nicknames or pseudonyms for their kids, or impatient with having to sign in to private blogs. Also without the kid stories my blog would be 95% shorter (and maybe some people would like it better that way, but oh well). So I just bank on anonymity in numbers.

I do unfortunately get occasional unsavory searches coming to my blog, though. At least the person who was searching for n*ked boys swimming only ended up at the post where Dean taped tiny paper swim trunks onto a swimming boy in the Carl Larsson painting in our calendar.

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