Andrew and I just had the most ridiculous bedtime experience. Both of our boys think naps are for sissies (or babies or girls or kids who don't like balloons or anyone other than them), so bedtime is always DRAMA.
Yes. I just wrote DRAMA in all caps like a fourteen year old hearing about her best friend's boyfriend holding hands with her other best friend. DRAMA.
Max went crazy.
Henry went crazy.
Andrew ended up sitting in front of Max's door holding the doorknob so Max couldn't escape. I ended up taking a three minute breather with all the lights off, noise-reducing headphones on my ears as some song from 2004 played as loud as the headphones allowed while Huck screamed in his swing.
Andrew picked up Henry.
I took my headphones off, tore off my sweatshirt, and dove into bed with Henry because he was past the point of no-boobs (Massive Tears! Madly Sucking Air! Food Needed! Y'know- DRAMA). Henry nursed himself to sleep and, when I walked into the hallway where Andrew was still holding Max's door, we looked at each other and then looked away because we were both so close to laughing that we knew we'd set Max off once again.
So I sat down and started this blog post and then Andrew walked up to me and showed me a photo of Max, sleeping soundly on his floor. Getting in the bed would be giving into the man, right?
We have some lively ones.
PS. Yesterday, when Andrew picked Star Wars for our Sunday movie, we had this conversation:
Me: "So Darth Vader thinks he's doing the right thing, right?"
Me: "And that makes him even more dangerous than everyone else?"
Andrew: "Yeah. Like a Conservative."
Don't worry- we're still Mormon. Always will be. Just not Conservative.