Things adults say

I wrote down some things I said to my boys this past week. I never imagined I'd sound like such a dad:

No licking the baby.
Get your fingers out of your bum!
Should stickers be on windows?
Dancing with Doritos is not allowed in this house.
Pants aren't for hitting.

What is a different way to say that?

We do not wipe our faces with underwear.

It has been a rough week. Liz has an upper respiratory infection and nasty cough that are not getting better, though today will be day five of antibiotics. Neither of us sleeps enough anyway, and the coughing makes it worse. And she has cancer. And chemo. If you are reading this and feeling bad for her, send some happy thoughts in her direction. Gotta get over this sickness. All of it.

Yesterday after I put the boys to bed and I put my dinner in the microwave, I came upstairs to talk to me lady. Two hours later I realized that I flopped sideways on the bed and fell asleep. So I warmed up my dinner (again) and Liz and I had a great talk. In between coughs, of course. She's awesome.

It was so good having Liz's parents and sister Brenda at our home. We wish they could have stayed longer, but we were thankful for their sacrifices to come. I'm especially grateful for the food that Brenda left with us, including the fresh mulberry and strawberry popsicles she made (see big boys below). Of course, we got them some Giordano's on the night before they headed back to Idaho.

The boys have survived with me in charge. If you use a loose definition of survived. Cohen was especially sad to see our visitors leave: "Dad, when Aunt Brenda is gone, does that mean I have to eat peanut butter and jelly for lunch again, all of the time, like you make me?"

Nice.

The other night long after I put Jensen to bed, he started yelling from his room: "Dad, I got a boooooger. Daaaaaaaaad, I got a booooooooger. Dad? Booger?"
I went upstairs, opened his door, and said, "You need to go to sleep. Where's your booger?"
"I ate it, sorry dad."
"Good night."

I was most surprised this week at what I did not say when Cohen threw open his door and ran downstairs, crying through wide eyes. "Dad, I think something is seriously wrong."
"What is it?" I asked.
"I stuck a Lego up my nose and now I can't get it out."

I had instant flashbacks to my older brother encouraging me to stick Kix up my nose when we were kids, so I grabbed Cohen's nostrils and squeezed. Lego War Machine's minifigure head shot out, we wiped it down, and he went back upstairs.

I did not ask why he did it. I knew there was no explanation, so what's the point. Extra credit for the person who posts a comment with the most interesting things you or your kids ever stuck up a nose.

Another day down, many more to go.

Go Team Liz.