Oh, the drama...

I thought that with having all boys I may be free from some of the drama that girls bring with them. I thought wrong. With the constant mishaps from the older boys, like Skater trying to climb out of the window during church last Sunday, my house is basically a broadway drama. I am just waiting to see who gets the Emmy. I am thinking it may be Moo with his dramatic way of throwing himself into a pouting fit and yelling things like, "You guys are horrible parents!" I think that if our 7-year-old thinks that we are "horrible parents" that we must be doing something right. It gets better though, after this particular scream I asked Moo what it was that made D and I such "horrible parents." He told me that he didn't know, but that his brothers are always mean to him. Then came my favorite (least favorite) dramatic monologue, "When we are at my mom's house, they tell me _____" (fill in the blank with whatever dramatic thought or action you can think of because it is different every time he is upset. I then have to break into my spill about how I have absolutely no control over what goes on at his mom's house, but that he knows that that behavior (or speaking) is not allowed at our house. And then continue with how we have to treat each other with respect. Sunday, after a particularly dramatic day, when Moo told me how "horrible" I was, instead of trying to find out the root of the problem, I just turned to him and said, "Really, cause you are absolutely wonderful right now!" in my most sarcastic voice. Sometimes you just have to be honest (honestly sarcastic). 

Sadly, the drama has not skipped Fuss. Last week D was chasing Fuss around, catching him, then tickling him. Fuss was laughing hysterically throughout the house. I was calmly taking a break from being mommy when Fuss ran into my room with his arms outstretched screaming, "MOM! Say me" (which is "save me" in Fussinese). He ran to my arms and laughed as I wrapped my daddy protecting arms around him. I loved that I was his protector, until the next day. Fuss brought me a barrette that he wanted me to put in his hair. I attempted to explain to him that his hair was too short and that barrettes are for girls. He got upset and started to throw a tantrum. I picked him up and started to get him dressed for the day (bad idea in the midst of a tantrum).  As he wiggled away from me, he grabbed my phone. He slid the phone open, pushed a few buttons, and put it up to his ear. He paused for just a moment then started a pretend conversation, "Gama! HEPPP!" (translation: Grandma! Helpppp!).